The Guardians
by PhoenixFalls
Summary: Sequel to The Demon Link. Crazy demigods, missing temples, wacky hijinks, emotional roller coasters, and Warren's been busted out of prison. The Guardians are put to the test. W/T possible other pairings too.ON SEMI-PERMANENT HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

**AN: **This story contains f/f and will more than likely contain some words that shouldn't be read by children or nuns. If that bothers you, there's probably an elsewhere that you could be.

**Disclaimer:** All characters/place names/whathaveyou are copyrighted to their respective owners. Everything that isn't theirs is mine. I just like to dust them off and give em some exercise sometimes.

**Warning: **This is a sequel to my story "The Demon Link." While you can read this without having read the other, parts of it will not make sense so it may be a good idea to read that story first, if you haven't already.

*

The early morning sunshine filtered through the windowpane, angling a stream of golden light directly onto the closed eyes of the sleeping form on the bed. Tara Maclay let out a barely audible sigh that brought her closer to consciousness as the bright sunbeam spread across her face and pulled her from sleep. Squinting her bright blue gaze at the light, she yawned silently and did her best to stretch out her muscles, which were stiff with sleep without waking the other occupant of the bed.

Pushing a mess of blonde hair out of her eyes, Tara moved onto her side, carefully making sure that she did not pull any of the sheets with her. As the groggy residue of sleep fled her senses, the blonde smiled gently at the woman sleeping next to her. Willow Rosenburg was sprawled out on her stomach, one arm thrown haphazardly over the side of the bed, her crown of auburn hair and her bare shoulders visible above the white sheets.

Propping herself up on one arm, Tara leaned over to study the redhead more closely. Willow breathed out the ghost of a sleep-filled chuckle as the blonde's hair tickled the back of her shoulder blades and she drifted back to her dreams. Tara was content just to watch the smaller woman sleep. The morning quietude was broken only by the muffled sounds of morning birds and the deep, even breathing of her slumbering girlfriend. Life seemed perfect.

Tracing her index finger along the spattering of barely-there freckles on the parts of Willow's back that were visible, the blonde wondered how long peace would reign in their lives. It had been six months since their return from Eurynomus' dimension, though sometimes it felt like years. Despite the horrible things that they had been through, it seemed that everything had turned out for the best. Buffy and Willow had mended their fences and the Fates new timeline included the Slayer and Xander tackling Warren before he had the chance to brandish his gun let alone shoot anyone, though Tara was still a tad uncomfortable standing next to the bedroom window.

Occasionally, the blonde Wicca would have nightmares about that other Sunnydale, about the things she had done and what it had felt like to have been completely taken over by dark magic. Even now, in the warmth of the rising sun, the thought made her shiver and her hand jerked slightly across Willow's back, causing the redhead to stir and hum semi-consciously. Shaking the clammy feeling away, Tara smiled and pressed a soft kiss to a freckled shoulder and admired the way the light brought out infinite shades of copper in the younger woman's hair.

"Tara?" Willow mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. "Am I awake?"

"I don't know." She chuckled. "Do you feel awake?"

"No." The hacker sighed, rolled over onto her back and yawned, rubbing her eyes gingerly before opening one experimentally to see how bright the day was.

If Willow had to pick her favorite part of the morning, it would not have been the organized chaos of birdsongs outside, the way the sunlight brightened the room to a particular shade of saffron, or even the sensation of being wrapped in her girlfriend's arms. Her favorite part was opening her eyes and seeing Tara. Not just dreaming she was near, not just imagining it or feeling it in some manner of subconscious memory, but actually opening her forest colored eyes and seeing her. It was proof. Affirmation that the last few months had not been a dream, that things really had changed and for once, they had changed for the better. Grinning, Willow pulled the blonde to her, delighting in the curtain of soft hair that fell around her face before pressing their lips together.

"I feel awake now." She sighed dreamily as they pulled apart.

Tara smiled serenely and ran a hand through Willow's hair. "Good," She replied, turning away from her girlfriend and getting out of bed while reaching for her robe that had been flung carelessly to the floor the night before. "Cause now it's time to get up."

The younger Wicca sat up, not bothering to hide the disappointed look that crossed her features and looked to the analog clock over their door. "B-but it's only 7:30! I'm not ready to get up." She protested, watching as the blonde deliberated over the contents of their closet while tying her robe shut. "I just said I was awake. Getting up shouldn't happen for at least another hour...or three"

Tara laughed, but did not turn around and Willow felt herself smile in spite of trying to maintain the pout on her face. "In another hour we'll be late, remember? We promised Anya two weeks ago that we'd help catalogue the reference books at the shop and Buffy wanted to talk to us about something."

"Aw, grumble." The hacker sulked, reaching for her own robe that somehow managed to keep its precarious position halfway on the foot of the bed. "You're no fun."

The blonde turned and raised her eyebrows, putting her hands on her hips, pretending her offense. "That's not what you said last night."

Willow laughed and shook her head, shivering slightly as she pulled herself from under the sheets and made her way to the dresser. "Vixen." She pulled open a drawer and pushed her way through a mass of socks. "Do we have time for a shower?"

"Willow." Tara warned, but the redhead could tell she was trying not to giggle.

"Okay, okay." She conceded good-naturedly, throwing a pair of socks onto the bed and moving to stand next to her girlfriend in front of the closet. "Can't blame a girl for trying." She reached into the closet and pulled out a pastel blue shirt before fishing around for her jeans. "Whaddya think Buffy wants to talk about?"

The blonde shrugged and handed the other witch a towel before gently shooing her towards the door. "I don't know…it must be some Scooby stuff; I didn't hear her come back from patrol last night."

"That's cause you were busy."

"Willow!" Tara reprimanded lightly, feeling her face flush slightly as she took a playful swat at the redhead's arm.

"Okay! I'm going!" Willow held up her hands innocently as she headed for the bathroom, but her grin was anything but.

*

Anya looked up from the finance log on the counter when the bell over the door of the Magic Box chimed, echoing loudly through the empty store. Willow and Tara walked in, the blonde clutching the hacker's arm as she laughed about something. The vengeance demon felt the twitch of a smile on her face and waved them over to the front desk. Being a demon with infinite powers over time (more or less), Anyanka was adept at knowing when a timeline had been changed and she was very certain that something had changed about six months ago.

Naturally, she had asked the witches as soon as she had the inkling that something was off. After the initial surprise and the inevitable explanation that vengeance demons adhered to a different sort of time flow, the two women had told her an obviously abridged version of their time in Eurynomus' Sunnydale. A large part of Anya was mystified at how the two women and Buffy had managed to vanquish Eurynomus and Asmodeus, but another part of her was strangely proud of them, especially after she heard about the gift the Fates had given them.

She supposed her newfound desire to be kinder and more supportive meant that they were truly her friends. Anya shook her head and cleared her throat, a tad irritated, effectively cutting off the whispered chatter going on in front of her. If they were her friends, they would know that coupley giggling should always take a back seat to helping her keep track of the things that kept her in business. She supposed that she should try her best not to make them angry, considering their new status as Guardians. Protectors of Light or not, it was rude to dally around when money was involved and she would not stand for it.

*

Willow tilted her head and wrinkled her nose at the last list of magical reference books concerning stones and talismans in her hand. She would have to tell Tara to remind her that she hated cataloging should Anya ever ask again, but the blonde demon had insisted that the hacker work on the opposite side of the store from her girlfriend to make sure things got done properly. The exuberant ex-human would come by every few minutes and inquire as to why it was taking her so long with her list and the redhead was sorely tempted to send her lover a telepathic message of escape. Willow let out an exasperated sigh and scanned the shelves in front of her for a copy of a book about crystals, wondering when Buffy would show up to save her from Anya.

The redhead was hoping that the meeting would yield nothing more than the baddie of the week. The last few months had been almost serene compared to how their time was normally spent atop the Hellmouth and Willow was enjoying this new level of normalcy in her life. The Wicca was pulled from her musings as she felt an electric tingle warm the back of her neck and spread to every one of her nerve endings and she smiled slightly. No matter how many times she felt it, each spark of Tara's energy was like a miracle. It never ceased to amaze her that every tiny jolt felt like the first time they had ever entwined energies.

"Aren't you supposed to be on the other side of the shop?" The shorter witch whispered so as not to draw attention to them while leaning back as the blonde encircled her waist with her arms.

Tara pressed her lips to Willow's cheek and rested her chin on the redhead's shoulder, looking through the hacker's list of books. "Mmm-hm." She replied quietly. "But Anya's up front arguing with a delivery guy about powdered bat heads or something. Besides…" she kissed the bottom of Willow's ear. "I missed you."

The redhead giggled and turned her head to give her girlfriend a proper kiss. "You better be careful or our demonic overlord will banish you to the other side of the store again."

"It's okay, I think Anya might be a little scared of us since we told her what happened." She reached past the shorter witch and pointed to a thick white book on one of the shelves. "Here's the crystal book. See? I'm helping."

Willow turned and repositioned herself in Tara's arms so she could face the blonde and she put her hands on the taller woman's shoulders gently. "I guess I should thank you, huh?" she said, keeping her voice hushed. Just over the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears and Tara's breathing, she could make out Anya reprimanding the delivery man for damaging part of her shipment.

"That's what's done in polite circles." The blonde witch agreed, nodding her head in affirmation.

"Oh well, you know me and manners. I hate to be rude…" Willow moved one hand from Tara's shoulder and gently used it to guide their faces closer, tangling her fingers in the flaxen locks.

What started out as several innocent pecks turned into one anything-but-innocent kiss and just as the redhead felt her back being pressed against a bookcase, a throat being cleared made them jump apart, red faced and smiling sheepishly at each other. Anya had her arms crossed over her chest and a stern look on her face. Willow offered a shrug by way of explanation and the vengeance demon rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"Can't you people keep your hands to yourselves for a few hours? I was calling you and I had to leave the money unattended!" the blonde demon threw her hands up in the air and shook her head, muttering under her breath. "Whatever. Put your hormones away, Buffy and Xander just came in…it looks important."

"Way to go." Willow mumbled teasingly at the blonde witch as they followed Anya towards the front of the store.

Tara shrugged and bumped her shoulder against the redhead's, smiling unapologetically. "You started it."

*

Life was anything but fair. Warren Mears had no idea how things had gone so wrong so quickly, but he had the distinct feeling that it was anything but fair. Twenty-five years was how much of his life he was expected to stay in prison, rotting away at the injustice of it all.

He sighed heavily and tried to focus his gaze on anything except the clear blue sky through the bars on the high window opposite him. He was lying on his back on the flat cotton mattress placed carelessly on the low cot he had yet to grow accustomed to. There was nothing to look at. Grey bricks outlined three sides of the eight by twelve room with an array of iron bars painted white that looked out onto the hallway of his cellblock. The bed above his was empty, which he was thankful for. A large, heavily tattooed biker sort used to sleep there, but he had just been transported to solitary a few days ago following a fight in the cafeteria. For the time being, it was just Warren, his cot, the stainless steel toilet and the window. His worry had quickly shifted from not getting beat up by that man to what brought him there in the first place.

The brunet had nothing but time to figure out what had gone wrong, but he could not place his finger on it. Everything had seemed so flawless, he was a genius, certainly smarter than Buffy Summers and her sidekick put together and yet the Slayer still got the best of him. He had seen everything so clearly in his minds eye; he had shot the Slayer, she was laying on the ground staring blankly at the sky and her little minion, Xander, was close to passing out from the shock. He could feel so vividly how satisfied he had been, how proud and powerful he had felt once he had realized the bullet had hit its mark, but that had not been the case, it was a futile daydream.

No matter how many times he went over it, Warren could not figure out where he had gone wrong. He figured that perhaps he should not have been so emotional at the time, but could not bear to blame himself for his predicament. Instead of wasting time on sulking, he turned his thoughts to his favorite pastime; imagining new and exciting ways to kill the Slayer and her friends. Even if he was not sure how he could have messed up, he was positive that it had something to do with them.

He rolled over and closed his eyes to shut out the bright orange jumpsuit that made him feel cross-eyed. He was just about to drift off to the semi-comfortable sleep he had been enjoying ever since his cellmate left when there was the metallic echo of a guard banging his baton against the pock marked metal bars of the door.

"Mears, get up!" an authoritatively gruff voice called out, causing him to turn over and crack one eye open. "You got a visitor."

Curious, Warren nodded and got off the cot, resisting the urge to punch the heavyset guard in the jaw as he clamped chains to his feet and lead him down the hall to the visitor's area. The brunet hated prison. People were always yelling, twisting their fingers up in various forms of inmate sign language and it stunk of sweat and despair. Warren was a genius; he did not belong in those cages like a factory-farmed chicken. He was not like the others; he was smarter, he was better. He had the good sense to keep those thoughts to himself, however. He had been there long enough to see how quickly something that could kill you could be made with next to nothing.

Entering the visitor's area, it was much quieter. An armed guard stood on either side of the room and the voices here were the mummers of men trying desperately to keep at least some part of their lives to themselves. The room was the same drab grey and landlord white as the rest of the prison, separated in the middle by a huge Plexiglas window. A row of desks with privacy dividers set up offered the inmates some of the only privacy they were allowed. Warren trudged down to the last stall where the guard had pointed after warning him that he only had five minutes.

Truthfully, Warren had expected his lawyer, a tall man that reminded him of Perry Mason but did his job twice as incompetently. Instead, there was a woman he had never seen before. The thirty-something appeared the no nonsense type in a grey business suit and white collard shirt, a manila folder on the desk in front of her. Her glossy black hair was pulled into a bun at the base of her neck and her hazel eyes looked him over as he sat down.

Intrigued, Warren picked up the two-way phone attached to the desk and leaned forward a tad, hoping his voice would not carry. He waited for the woman to press her receiver to her ear with a slender caramel colored hand before nodding at her.

"You're the one that tried to shoot the Slayer?" the woman asked with a slight English accent.

Warren was surprised at the direct question. "Yeah, well, that obviously didn't go as planned."

She regarded him thoughtfully before nodding and opening the folder in front of her, looking at something briefly before closing it and turning her attention back to him. "Twenty-five years is a long time."

"Yeah, well, I can get it down to ten if I play nice." He retorted, growing more irritated.

She smiled and Warren had the distinct feeling that gesture was condescending. "Come, come, is that any way to treat someone who is offering you your freedom?"

"My what?"

"I don't repeat myself, Mr. Mears. My organization is interested in you and your work. I'm here to offer you a deal."

"It's a little late for that." He snorted. "How do you plan on getting me out of here when I've already been convicted?"

"I have my ways."

He shook his head and barely managed to suppress a sneer. "Who do you work for?"

"An interesting question. Unfortunately, without a prior agreement, I'm not able to reveal that information."

"_Great."_ He thought. _"She sounds like a lawyer. Whatever, she can't be any worse than the one I've got." _He cleared his throat and tried again. "Why do you want to help me, Miss…?"

"Welsh." She provided without saying anything else.

"Okay…what do you want, Miss Welsh?"

She smiled coldly and leaned closer to the Plexiglas. "I want the same thing you want, Mr. Mears. I want to see the Slayer and her little friends dead."

Warren felt a smile form on his face, a real smile. "I'm listening."


	2. Chapter 2

"So what's with the rise and shine episode of the Scooby meeting, Buff?" Xander asked from his seat at the table, idly flipping through an illustrated encyclopedia of demon species. "Or do you just like sending everyone weird text messages in the morning?"

Xander, Anya, Willow and Tara sat at the polished wooden table off to the side of the shop while Buffy was hovering near the front of the store, peering over the window display of crystal balls and dried herbs as if she were looking for something. She jumped slightly at the sound of the brunet's voice, her mind apparently elsewhere and she turned towards their expectant faces.

"It's been pretty quiet lately…relatively speaking. Is this like a hundred day accident free party?" Xander continued, raising his eyebrows. "I for one am willing to put you in for Slayer of the Month if there's pizza involved."

Buffy smiled, but her face looked tense as she shook her head. "Actually, the vacation might be over." She reached into the pocket of her leather jacket and pulled out a smooth stone about the size of her palm, setting it on the table. Willow flinched, remembering the last time Buffy had found an unusual amulet. A small jolt of fear wound its way around her nervous system until she felt Tara's hand on her knee. Smiling gratefully at the blonde witch, she noticed that she was just as nervous.

"It looks like it's a piece of pottery or something." Xander commented, pushing aside the encyclopedia and picking up the stone.

"Don't be silly." Anya chastised, taking the object away from him. "Why would she call a meeting over a clay tablet?" He had the most asinine suggestions sometimes.

"Come on, Ahn." He retorted, a tad wounded. "We live on a Hellmouth, use your imagination."

The blonde demon rolled her eyes in response and studied the stone. The obviously ancient slate did indeed look like a piece of pottery and a very small part of her felt compelled to shoot her ex-fiancé an apologetic look, but she resisted. The rock's rectangular shape rounded off at the corners and it was strangely warm to the touch; it felt like limestone but seemed to be much harder and it was a deep shade of red.

There were several nicks along the edges of the stone, six in total, but they were not the wear and tear of age. The precisely cut grooves were smooth; they had clearly been made intentionally. The side Anya was looking at was blank with no defects, but feeling a network of lines on the other side, she flipped the tablet over.

There was a carving on the other side of the stone, filled in with some manner of black glassy substance to make it stand out. In the center of the rock was the perfect depiction of a rightward facing crescent moon. On the left side of the rock, a large 'S' shape with spirals on the tips was drawn. Jagged lines that looked like lightning streaked from the bottom and the right side of the moon, going all the way over to the edge as if it were the piece of a puzzle.

"What does it go to?" Anya asked finally, passing the stone back to Xander.

Buffy shrugged and glanced towards the front window again. "I dunno. Angel just told me that some demony secret agent types had it."

"Angel?" Willow asked, watching out of the corner of her eye as Xander rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, tossing the stone indelicately back onto the table. "He's here?"

"Was." The Slayer corrected, fidgeting slightly and turning away from them. "He…he showed up last night while I was on patrol and gave me that. He had someone with him who is supposed to help us out..."

"Who?"

"I wanted you guys here this morning, but not just because of this rock." Buffy said instead. "I needed to prepare you for what was about to happen and believe me, I don't like this any more than any of you will."

"Oh, I get it..." Anya blurted, her voice rising in panic. "You slept with him, didn't you? You want to tell us that we're all about to die."

"What?" Buffy's gaze shot up at the vengeance demon, her eyes wide. "Don't be stupid! Of course I didn't…"

"Well I don't think it's stupid! Your past history speaks for itself." She looked around the table for someone to support her correct opinion.

The Slayer opened her mouth to retort when the bell over the door chimed, bringing their argument to a screeching halt before it even got started.

"It's Faith?" Willow managed after a few seconds of strained silence..

Sure enough, the Dark Slayer was standing in the doorway of the Magic Box, her hands shoved into the back pockets of her black jeans and a matching jacket over a red tanktop. She gave the room half of a lopsided smile, which looked awkward and forced. "Looks like I got dramatic entrances on lockdown." She joked, looking briefly over at Buffy whose gaze was focused on her friends at the table.

"Well at least it's not Angelus." Anya mumbled.

"Aren't you supposed to be, oh, I don't know…back in jail?" Xander pointed out, jabbing an accusatory finger at Faith.

The brunette Slayer admitted, shrugging her shoulders. "Angel told me…" She paused and shrugged again. "He's got me on a Slayer work-release gig."

Willow shook her head, pushing herself away from the table and disappearing into the back of the store, Xander following suit. Without thinking about it, Anya got up and went after him, calling his name. Buffy threw her hands up in the air and sighed heavily, dropping down into the chair across from Tara and putting her head in her hands.

"Well." Faith said, stepping further into the store. "That totally went better than I'd thought."

*

Callia Welsh hummed absentmindedly as she shuffled through the paperwork on her desk, feeling pleased with herself. She was glad that the Mears boy was going to accept her offer, but honestly, she had not expected anything less. A knock on the ornate mahogany door of her office caused her to look up and she waved her hand idly, making the door open. A nervous looking girl in her late teens entered, her eyes fixed to the floor as she took a few tentative steps into the room. She appeared to be trembling.

"What's the matter, child?" Callia asked softly, not wanting to frighten her further. She understood, new initiates were often quite skittish in her presence.

"The…the arrangements have been made, Miss." The girl started haltingly, not looking up. "Miss Kestrel said that you…you should be able to collect Mr. Mears by tomorrow afternoon."

The tanned woman smiled and tapped her well-manicured fingernails on the top of the oak desk she sat at. "Excellent. Go and tell Kestrel to begin the preparations and the Mears boy and I will meet up with her."

"Yes, Miss." She bowed her head and backed out of the room, closing the door.

Callia resumed her study of the papers in front of her, pulling out a map hand drawn by some ancient cartographer on a soft sheet of vellum. As long as she could stay two steps ahead of the Guardians, as long as Warren did his part, and as long as she could locate the other key, the temple, and the Energumen Eye before anyone else, everything would be fine. It seemed a daunting task, but she was up to it.

She was determined to restore her people to their former glory. After centuries of slavery, it was the least she could do. Callia supposed that once all the pieces were in place and she activated the weapon, she could potentially attempt world domination in the name of the Kindred but the world seemed a paltry compensation for the pain and suffering they had undergone at the hands of Eurynomus. It was true that she desired power, but it was not for herself, it was for the Kindred, for her people. She wanted them to be respected again, feared again, and loved again.

It loathed her to be indebted to anyone, but the hazel-eyed woman regrettably owed the Guardians her freedom. Every member of the Kindred owed the Guardians so she had leveled the playing field, allowed one of the keys to fall into their hands. Callia was a fair woman and was well aware that she and the Guardians were not quite even, but the key was a start and though she was even handed, this was one game she had every intention of winning.

*

Faith took a drag of the cigarette in her hand and flicked the ashes over the curb on which she sat. She had slipped out of the Magic Box to let the Slayerettes get out all their indignation, but was still not sure if it was safe to go back inside yet. She shook her head and pushed some of her wavy brown hair away from her face. It was strange, being back in Sunnydale. She had not wanted to be the one to go, but Angel had insisted and she owed him more than she felt she would be able to repay.

The Slayer was not sure what she had expected when she came back. She had not imagined that they would welcome her warmly. When she had first seen Buffy last night, the small blonde had given her one hell of a right hook. She rubbed the spot on the left side of her jaw where the blow had connected and not for the first time, she was thankful for her fast healing.

Sighing, Faith stretched her legs out onto the street and leaned back on one hand, tilting her head back to jettison the blue-white tobacco smoke towards the sky. She hated it when things were complicated. She knew why Angel had sent her here. He could have just as easily sent Wesley or Gunn, but she was the first person he had looked to when they had figured out what the tablet was. She had given it to Buffy as a show of her good intentions. Faith knew that the petite Slayer had an uncompromising desire to be in charge of things and Angel had told the younger Slayer that if she was serious about the road to redemption, Buffy and company would have to be confronted eventually.

The small hairs on the nape of her neck stood up suddenly and the odd feeling in the pit of her stomach that would normally have accompanied the presence of a demon flared up. She scooted over on the curb, making room for the blonde Slayer. Faith had always been able to tell when Buffy was close by. When it was a demon, her stomach felt solid, almost as if it was hardening itself. Whenever Buffy was near, it was the opposite. She felt as if her stomach was trying to jump out. Faith was well aware that the blonde Slayer felt the same things and part of her was amused that Buffy seemed so averse to acknowledging the bond that they shared, though she really could not blame her. Pulling her legs back up and leaning her elbows on her knees, she expecting some manner of harsh reprimand for spooking the Slayerettes.

"When did you start smoking?" Buffy asked, perching delicately on the curb.

Faith chuckled humorlessly at the genuine curiosity in the blonde's voice and took one last drag of her cigarette before flicking it gently into the middle of the road. "The shark tank." She looked over at Buffy who stared blankly at her and could not resist giving the blonde a half grin. "In the joint."

"Makes sense, I guess…Sorry about the…" the older Slayer made a jabbing motion at the air in front of her.

The brunette shrugged in response. "No big, B. I figure you owe me a couple more."

Buffy nodded but her expression was uncomfortable. Before she had seen Faith, Angel had tried to prepare her, but she had known the Dark Slayer was there almost the instant she knew Angel was there. She had heard tell about the brunette's supposedly genuine attempt at turning over a new leaf, but the second she had looked into the taller woman's eyes, her fist had flown on its own. Truthfully, she did feel guilty. Faith had not done anything but say 'hi' and she had hauled off and punched her. She was worried her new attitude was all a trick, but if Angel trusted her, she was willing to try.

"I think everyone has calmed down by now." Buffy said after clearing her throat.

"Sure." The Dark Slayer humored, standing up with the blonde. "I'm guessin that there's gonna be a round of twenty questions first, yeah?"

"Probably." She turned and looked up at the brunette, her hand on the door of the shop. "Look, Faith. I'm willing to give you a chance because Angel trusts you for whatever reason…and he seems to think you should be here. Let's make it clear though that I'm not okay with this and I can't make anyone else be okay with it, got that?"

Faith held up her hands and shook her head bemusedly. "No prob, B. Stay on defcon one all you want. Soul Boy just sent me here to help out."

Buffy nodded, seeming satisfied with the answer and led them back into the store where the Scoobies had reassembled at the table. Faith wanted to cringe at the expressions on their faces, but she kept her face still. Remorse was not something that she had felt often, but ever since she had tried to con Angel into killing her, she had felt a lot of it and now was no exception. She often found herself wondering what her life would have been like if she had just opened up to Buffy and her goody-two shoes brigade. Maybe things would have turned out a lot differently.

She leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms, seeing that everyone was waiting for her to say something. "Alright, make with the inquisition already."

"Got all your answers rehearsed and wanna get them out before you forget?" Xander asked sarcastically, glaring at her darkly.

"If you're so…reformed…" Willow cut in before Faith could reply. "Why didn't you go back to prison…where you belong?"

"Willow!" Tara whispered sharply.

The brunette Slayer smiled slightly and shrugged her shoulders, trying not to clench her jaw. "Don't worry about it, Blondie." She offered. "Your girl's not wrong. I'm doin the whole redemption thing. Kinda hard to do when you're locked down twenty three hours a day."

"What makes you think we want to help you with that?" Xander asked, his fists clenched on top of the table.

"Nothing." She said honestly. "Tell you the truth; I hadn't planned on setting foot back in Sunny D for a good long forever." If it were not for her Slayer hearing, Faith would have missed Buffy mutter 'typical' but she had heard it and she felt a flicker of a wince cross her features. "Angel thought it'd be better if I was the one helping you guys out for a while."

"Show's what he knows."

"I have a question." Anya interjected, raising her hand. "Are you going to kills us?"

Faith let out a loud chuckle and shook her head. "Nah."

"Great! Okay! You're cured! Let's talk about this rock then!"

The Dark Slayer was actually thankful for the change in topic. While she hoped that one day she would be forgiven, she was definitely not comfortable with having a Mr. Roger's moment with the people in front of her by explaining what exactly had gone on in LA.

"Right." Buffy said picking up the stone from the table and sitting down. "How did you get it and maybe more importantly, what is it?"

Faith walked over to the table so she could be heard better, but did not sit down. "Well, I've been hanging with the Fang Gang and stuff, working on cases and whatnot…about five or six months ago, we start seeing these Scully and Mulder types just hanging out around the bat cave, right? Sunglasses at night types, gave me the demon vibes but they didn't really try anything. So Angel wants to check it out, make sure that they're not gonna try anything funny." She uncrossed her arms, feeling more comfortable as she continued. "Couldn't find out the goods, but I got a hold of one of em that was tailing me an Wes and he had this on him."

"How did you get it?" Xander asked. "I can't imagine you just asked."

Faith rolled her eyes, Angel was crazy, he should have sent someone else. "Yeah, I even said please."

"That's not important." The blonde Slayer said, eyeing Xander sideways. "Why did he want to bring it here? Couldn't you guys figure this out in LA?"

The younger Slayer shook her head. "Dunno. From what we could figure out, it's a piece of something or some kinda key. Angel thought it'd be best to keep it away from whoever had it first…I think he knew a lot more than he was telling me."

"Guess he's not as dumb as he looks." Xander mumbled, looking away sheepishly as Buffy shot a glare at him.

"Okay." The blonde Slayer started, standing up. "We'll do the research thing. I'm gonna go call Angel and try and get some more info and then I'll have to pick up Dawn from school. Will, check the internet and see if you can find anything about this mystical whatsit, the rest of you, hit the books…and keep an eye on Faith."

"I'm a big girl, I don't need to be babysat, B."

"The hell you don't."

"Babysitting traditionally requires monetary compensation." Anya pointed out. "Are you going to pay us? And what about my cataloging?"

"This is a little more pressing than money and cataloging, Anya." Buffy reprimanded.

"W-we can help you later, if you want." Tara suggested, biting her lip to keep from smiling at the scowl Willow gave her.

The blonde demon nodded reluctantly. "I guess as long as you're supervised…Okay. I suppose I'll help, if only to prove that I can still be a functioning member of society."

The petite Slayer rolled her eyes. "Fantastic. I'll be back in a few hours. I need to talk to Dawn first, I'll have to explain…" she glanced over at Faith who was poking around a jar of chicken feet. "I'll just have to explain."

**AN:** Obviously, this story is AU, but I neglected to mention that before. Be warned that quite a few things are changed around. Clearly in regards to the whole Evil Willow arc but a lot of the stuff that happened between Faith and the Scoobies is different, at least in regards to what happened after busing out of prison. Everything is generally the same, but happened sooner in this universe. This is the first time Faith has been back in Sunnydale since the body switching thing.


	3. Chapter 3

"I don't know how you did it." Officer Carlson said, shaking his head while he led Warren through the corridors of the jail.

Warren smiled broadly and adjusted the tie on his suit. It felt good to be out of that awful orange getup they had made him wear. The only clothes he had available to him was his court day suit, but the change of clothing had made him feel better almost immediately and his step was jaunty as they made their way towards the front of the prison.

"I guess it's all in who you know, Carlson." He replied cockily. Truthfully, he had no idea how Miss Welsh had gotten him out either, but he would be forever grateful. He was almost quivering with excitement as the rotund officer slid his keycard through the last barrier between them and the outside world.

"You can go and collect your property from the front desk." Officer Carlson said grudgingly. "They've told me there's someone waiting outside for you too."

Warren smiled broadly and pat the other man on the shoulder. "Great. I'd love to stay and chat, old man, but life beckons!" he strode through the bullet proof door and collected his wallet and watch which had been taken from him when he had been arrested and nearly jogged toward the front door of the prison.

Hesitating only for a moment, he pushed through the door and took his first free breath in six months. If oxygen could have been described as delicious, he would have called it just that. At the end of the grey paved sidewalk that led up to the main building was a black limousine with a rather large man in a chauffeurs uniform standing next to it. The man opened the door upon seeing Warren, and revealed Miss Welsh who was in the backseat. Thanking the blue sky for his good providence, he nodded gamely and slid into the seat across from the woman who had arranged his freedom.

"Welcome back to society, Mr. Mears." Miss Welsh said as the door was closed behind him. She gestured towards the small fridge set into the side of the interior. "Have a drink."

"This is incredible." He started, pouring himself a scotch as the limousine rumbled forward. "How did you manage it?"

She smiled slightly and raised her shoulders once. "As I told you before, I have my ways. Now then, I suppose that you've already figured out that my freeing you is not charity work."

"Right. You want me to kill the Slayer."

Callia laughed, an abrupt haughty sound that caused him to shift uncomfortably in embarrassment. "Aren't you such a dear? Your enthusiasm is greatly appreciated, but this is a delicate matter. It is your intelligence I desire, Warren. Allow me to explain the situation a little better."

Warren nodded and leaned back in his seat.

"I am the leader of a…" she tilted her head, searching for the right word. "Coven, if you will. We are called the Kindred. We are not human and not demon…something in between, I suppose. We were united under our Lord Kadross, the one who made us…" she looked almost wistfully out of the window at the passing scenery. "Eons ago we were powerful…we fed life into Lord Kadross and in turn, he gave his children power. "We were warriors of the shadows, a darkness not tied to the First Evil…we were unique."

"Were?"

Callia smiled bitterly. "Have you ever heard of something called the Guardians?"

Warren shook his head.

"They are weapons, after a fashion. Much like the Slayer, they are warriors of Light. Unlike the Slayer, they only come in pairs. Only select Higher Beings, mostly agents of Destiny, can bestow their power upon them. They are fairly powerful on their own, but together, they are a Divinity of Light. It was a pair of Guardians who had the power to seal away Kadross. I have every intention, Mr. Mears, of restoring my God to His full health."

"Why can't you do it yourself? You seem pretty…capable."

"You see, once Kadross was sealed away, the Kindred fell into disarray. We need his leadership to function properly…we need our God in order to have purpose. Without his protection, we are weak. The right hand of Evil, a high-demon named Eurynomus took advantage of our Godlessness and enslaved the lot of us. Without Kadross' help, it was all too easy for Eurynomus to take control.

He used us for his own ends, to feed the First Evil, to garner mortal souls for himself. We have been forced to betray Kadross for two thousand lifetimes. I can't imagine that you know what it feels like to have your mind and actions controlled against your will…but since the latest Guardians have destroyed Eurynomus, we are free. We are free to restore ourselves and restore Kadross."

"It's always about power, isn't it?" he set his empty glass into his cup holder. "What has this got to do with the Slayer and her minions?"

"You misunderstand me. The Kindred had our own dimension at one time. We of course had a presence in the mortal dimensions, but our desire for power is driven only by the need to elevate Kadross. We believe that with Eurynomus out of the picture, we could potentially overthrow the First Evil and install Kadross as supreme. The Guardians that sealed vanquished Eurynomus, leaving us free again, are part of the Slayer's circle of friends.

You've dealt with the Slayer before, you know how she thinks, what she's likely to do…we need that information. We need you to help us adjust to this place. We haven't had our own wills in so long that we have a hard time living in this world. If you like, you could think of yourself as our technician. In exchange for helping us rid ourselves of the Guardians, the Slayer and helping us restore Kadross, we will allow you to keep your freedom and implore our God to allow you to become one of us. You would be a fool to reject this offer."

Warren watched the trees blue by the window and tapped his fingers on his knees. This was his chance at revenge, his chance to get the respect and power that he deserved. Killing the Slayer and whoever these Guardians were would be icing on the cake.

"I'm in." he said finally, looking back at the woman in front of him.

Callia smiled. "I had the feeling that you were too smart to pass this up. Right now, our main goal is to locate the key to the temple in which Kadross is sealed. We know the location of where the temple used to be, but the previous Guardians have moved it."

"Moved it?"

"I told you they were quite powerful. It could be anywhere, really. As long as Kadross is sealed, the Kindred cannot feel his presence. What we do know is that there are two keys to open the antechamber of the temple. One is already in the hands of the current Guardians, but they don't know what it is. Once we have the second key, We'll move on from there."

Warren smiled. He was used to being the leader, but that may have been because of the incompetent company he kept. Now was his real shot at the big leagues; as long as it meant the demise of the people who had foiled his plans, he was willing to take whatever risks were necessary and let someone else be in charge. As long as he was the one who got to end the Slayer.

*

Tara was sitting on the floor in the back of the store, flipping through a book of demonic symbols in search of the design on the tablet. She looked up briefly as Faith wandered into the aisle she was sitting in. The dark haired Slayer was clearly not much for research as she had been pacing the length of the store for the better part of an hour.

"Any luck?" the brunette asked, running a hand along one of the bookshelves without looking at the titles.

Tara shook her head and leaned against the wall. "Not yet." She heard the Slayer sigh and watched out of the corner of her eye as Faith sank down onto the floor near her. Feeling a little curious, the blonde took the time to study the brunette's energy. Granted, the first time she had met Faith, the other woman had been in Buffy's body, but Tara could tell that the brunette had indeed changed. It was not a total difference, but it was a marked improvement from the hostile blacks and muddied reds that she had seen before.

"You sizing me up, Blondie?" Faith asked amusedly, breaking her concentration.

"I was…was just…" Tara felt her face flush with embarrassment and wished that she had kept all of the brazenness she had accumulated in Eurynomus' dimension.

"Relax." The Slayer chuckled. "I'm not gonna hurt ya."

"I know."

"Yeah?"

"Y-your…your aura. It's not, um…" Tara set her book down on the floor and clawed her fingers, bumping them together a few times. "Scary."

Faith smiled slightly, looking very proud of herself. "Guess I'm getting pretty good at this good guy thing." She jabbed a finger towards the front of the store. "Try and tell that to Mystery Inc. though."

The blonde chuckled but remained silent at the contemplative look on the Slayer's face, she appeared to be working up the nerve to say something else.

"So Blo...uh, Tara." The brunette started, obviously uncomfortable as she dropped her gaze to the floor. "I know we only ever really met that once…but uh…I just wanna, you know…" she raised her brown eyes upwards as if the spackled ceiling held something interesting. "Apologize…I guess, for…you know…" She laughed nervously. "I'm no good at this shit."

Tara smiled and set a comforting hand on Faith's knee, drawing the Slayer's attention. "I-it's okay, Faith." She assured. "If…if you need to hear it, I forgive you." She was surprised at the flood of relief that washed over the younger woman. She clearly carried a lot of guilt with her and the blonde's heart went out to the damaged woman next to her.

"Thanks, Blondie." Faith replied, smiling nonchalantly as Tara removed her hand. "You're good people."

"Thanks, I-." She was about to say something more when she felt Willow's energy being sent out towards her.

"_Baby?" _the redhead's mental voice inquired, a tad worried. _"Are you okay back there?"_

"_Mm-hm." _The older Wicca replied mentally, tapping the side of her head and mouthing Willow's name to Faith who nodded in understanding. _"Why wouldn't I be?"_

"_I saw Faith go back there a few minutes ago and she hasn't come back yet. I got worried."_

"_I'm fine, love. There's nothing to worry about."_

"_Yeah, right…Anyways, you guys better come back out here. Buffy's on her way back and I think I might have found something."_

"Buffy's on her way back." Tara informed the Slayer out loud, getting up off the floor. "And, um, Willow thinks she found something."

"That mind meld thing is pretty bad ass." Faith said, following the witch to the front of the store. Must be a pretty wicked trick in the sack, huh?"

The blonde's deep blush and incoherent stammer caused the brunette to let out a loud laugh as they approached the research table.

"What did you do?" Willow accused immediately, not liking her girlfriend's shocked expression and the way Faith seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself.

Tara shook her head and kissed Willow's cheek, calming her. "I'm fine, Willow."

"Chill, Red." The dark Slyer said, hopping onto the front counter against Anya's protests. "Wouldn't want you to zap me or anything."

"Don't tempt me." The hacker warned, turning back towards the screen on her laptop.

"Ohmigod, it's true!" Dawn shouted, bursting through the door of the shop with Buffy on her heels, throwing her backpack on the floor and all but flinging herself at Faith. "You came back!"

Pleasantly surprised, Faith slid off the countertop and returned the hug she was being given. "Pint Size!" she held Dawn at arms length by the shoulders and pretended to study her. "Damn, girl, you got big." She wagged her eyebrows. "And cute."

"Faith!" Buffy shouted, giving the lanky brunette a black look. "Back away from my little sister."

"Oh come on, B! I was just playin." But she stepped away from Dawn, throwing the girl a wink.

"This is so cool." Dawn gushed, going back towards the door to pick up her backpack. "Where are you staying? Can she stay with us?"

"Absolutely not!" Buffy and Willow said in unison.

"Dawn, don't you have homework?" the blonde Slayer asked, though if Dawn would have written the sentence out, she would have put a period on the end, not a question mark.

"Yeah, whatever." The youngest Summers grumbled, dumping her backpack on the table.

Buffy sighed and shook her head, embittered. She would never understand the connection between Faith and her little sister. She was more than a little aggravated at the monks who had implanted their memories of Dawn that they had made her so moony-eyed over the dark Slayer. She felt personally affronted by it. Even though she knew Dawn had not existed then, she had memories of having to deal with the emotional train wreck that the girl had transformed into after Faith had defected to the Mayor. Buffy had thought that if anything, that would have put an end to Dawn's hero worship, but her sister had blamed her for abandoning Faith when she needed her. Anything Faith had done always somehow turned out to be her fault in her sister's mind.

"So, how'd it go here?" Buffy asked, wanting to get back to business.

"Well," Willow started, typing something onto her computer. "I couldn't find the exact symbol on the web, but I did find a page that described something really similar. Instead of a moon, it was apparently a sun with the lightning bolts on the bottom and the left and the weird curlicue thing on the right. It's supposed to be a key alright, but I couldn't figure out for what."

"Angel knew." The blonde Slayer picked up, biting her thumbnail thoughtfully for a moment. "I know why he wanted to give it to us too…" she looked around the room and realized that they were going to have to do some major explaining. She turned her attention to Willow and Tara who were looking at her expectantly. "According to Angel, it's a key to a chamber in a temple. He said that the temple is so old that its real name is unknown, but it used to be in Wales and when the Romans came rampaging through, they called it Tutelae Delubra."

Willow and Tara paled. "Th-the Guardians Temple?" the blonde witch asked feebly, drawing looks of confusion from Xander, Dawn and Faith.

"And it used to be in Wales?" Willow chimed in, her voice quiet.

Buffy nodded. "All he could tell me was that the last Guardians either constructed it or had it built and it used to be someplace in Wales and it disappeared a few thousand years ago."

"I'm almost afraid to ask this," the redhead said, putting her head in her hands. "But what's in the temple?"

"Beats me. Angel didn't know either. He said that they caught up with another of those super spy demons last night though. She had some kind of tattoo that he thinks may mean something…he should be emailing you a picture of it in a bit."

"Am I the only one that's really confused here?" Xander spoke up.

Tara and Willow exchanged a look and then glanced at Buffy who nodded.

"Okay, well…" the redheaded Wicca started awkwardly. She cleared her throat a few times. "Uh, how about we move this back to the house? It's getting late and this is a…long story."

"Good idea." Buffy stated, looking at her friend sympathetically. She was sure that Willow and Tara needed time to collect their thoughts. The explanation was not going to be easy on any of them. She smiled over at Xander. "Wanna go get that pizza?"

"But of course!" he declared, surprised when Anya stood up with him. "Guess the store's closing early, so we'll meet you back at your house."

"Great!" Dawn said, shoving her history book back in her bag. "Faith can ride with us!"

"Marvelous." The blonde mumbled.


	4. Chapter 4

"Wow." Xander said for the hundredth time from his spot on the floor of the Summers' living room. "Just…wow."

That was really all anyone could say after the two witches regaled the room with everything that had happened before they changed the timeline. Wisely, on the way back to the house, Tara had suggested leaving out how Willow had endangered Dawn as the girl did not need that kind of stress and they both knew that there was no way she would tolerate being sent to her room while something important was going on. The youngest Summers was sitting on the couch between the Tara and Willow where she had planted herself almost immediately after the part of the story where Tara had been shot. She was currently clinging onto the blonde witch's left hand and the hacker's right as if her life depended on it.

"Hey!" Xander said, straightening his shoulders. "I saved the world!" Willow looked over at him and found his smile infectious. He caught her eye and looked away embarrassedly. "I mean, it's not like I'm going 'yay! Best friend went evil!' but you know…"

"I get it, Xand." The redhead replied, drawing his gaze again. "Thank you, by the way."

The brunet grinned widely at her and shrugged his shoulders, reaching for a slice of pizza now that he found he had the capacity to eat again.

Buffy rose from her perch on an armchair and stretched her arms over her head. "If it's okay with you guys," she started, looking at Willow and Tara. "I'm gonna go ask Angel how the hell he knew about this. Maybe he can help with the research."

Tara nodded her agreement and stood up as the blonde Slayer left the room. "I need to get some air anyways." She was largely uncomfortable with discussing her murder as she still sometimes felt phantom pains when the subject was brought up. She smiled gently at the sympathetic look Willow was giving her and attempted to extricate her hand from Dawn's who was refusing to let go. The blonde sat back on the couch and used her free arm to wrap the girl in a hug which was only partly returned as she still had not relinquished control of the redhead's hand.

The look on Dawn's face was pleading with her not to leave and her eyes were wide and watery as she shook her head.

"Oh sweetie, I'm coming back." Tara assured, kissing Dawn's forehead. "I just…r-remembering that…talking about it…it takes a lot out of me." She pointed towards the back of the house where the kitchen door was barely visible. "I'm just going to be out back, okay? Stay here and keep Willow company."

Dawn nodded her head slowly and released her tight grip on the blonde's hand. "Can...can you leave the door open?" she asked meekly, her voice filled with unnecessary worry. "So we can see you?" Satisfied when Tara nodded, she let go completely and latched her free hand onto Willow's arm.

As the tall witch made her way through the kitchen, she noticed that the rouge Slayer was nowhere to be seen, but the back door was ajar. Stepping out onto the back stoop, she found Faith sitting on the ground, staring off in the distance at the sinking sun, a cigarette dangling between her lips. She looked up as Tara came outside, gestured to the spot next to her, and the blonde sat down.

"Been out here long?" Tara asked, following Faith's gaze to the magenta and brilliant yellow streaks that were melting into the purples and blues of night.

"Seemed like the thing to do." The Slayer replied, stubbing out her cigarette on the ground and producing another from a pack in her pocket. "You guys were having a moment…I didn't need to be there." She angled her thumb towards the door behind them. "Kept the door open though; Slayer hearing is pretty bad ass if you care enough to listen."

The blonde nodded but did not reply.

"You an Red are for real, huh?" Faith asked after a few minutes of silence.

Tara nodded, a smile spreading over her features. "Yeah…w-we're for real." Just saying it aloud did wonders to chase away some of the cold feeling that had settled in the pit of her stomach. They fell into silence once more.

"Blondie, can I ask you something?"

"Technically, you j-just did."

Faith's chuckle was surprised. "I mean, you got the right not to answer, but…" she paused, inhaled a lungful of smoke deeply and regarded Tara out of the corner of her eye. "What's…what's it like to die?"

The question caught her off guard. Judging from the quiet tone in Faith's voice, it was not the first time she had thought about it and Tara had the feeling that it was not solely because death was a Slayer's number one occupational hazard. She took a steadying breath before she replied. "It's…d-disorienting." She wrapped her arms around herself. "C-cold. I felt, um..h-helpless and…scared."

"Sounds like prison." The brunette joked. She shrugged at Tara's curious glance. "Wasn't as bad as they make it out in the movies. Three meals a day, a place to put your head at night and sometimes you'd even get a movie."

"Why didn't you leave?" The witch needed to ask, needed to know. She had heard all about Faith and the things the brunette Slayer had done. She was not pleased about the danger that those actions had put her family in and she wanted to be sure that those things would never happen again.

Faith appeared to contemplate the answer deeply. "I deserved to be there." She said quietly. She appeared to be struggling with telling Tara too much. "Hell, I coulda left any time I wanted. Those places aren't equipped to hold a Slayer let alone a bat shit crazy one." She smiled ruefully. "Thought putting myself in a cage was the best thing. Protect me from them…" she gestured to the houses beyond the backyard; to the world. "Protect them from me, seemed like the smartest thing I'd done in a while."

"I don't think you're crazy." The blonde said earnestly. "I think…you've had it rough. B-believe it or not, I know how that feels. You've done a lot of crazy things, b-but I don't think you're crazy."

Faith shook her head, seemingly embarrassed. "Shit Blondie, ever think about being a therapist? Got me spillin my guts out." She stubbed her cigarette out on the side of her boot. "You know? I kinda appreciate that. Didn't expect anyone in Sunny D to give me the time of day after all the fucked up shit I've done. I'll probably high tail it outta here once B figures out what's up, but I'm glad it wasn't a total waste." She started to stand up but stopped when felt Tara's hand on her arm.

"Don't."

"Don't?" there was a smirk on her face.

"You…you can't run forever, Faith." The witch could see the aura of pain around the Slayer so clearly, she almost did not need to concentrate. "If you're serious a-about redemption…stay."

She shrugged off the blonde's hand and stood up, shaking her head. "A fuckin therapist." Despite the brunette's tone of voice, it was clear that she was considering what the blonde had said to her.

"Hey." Buffy said, appearing in the doorway and looking at Tara. "You okay?"

The witch nodded. "Yeah…I'll be fine. H-how's Dawn?"

The elder Slayer glanced behind her shoulder. "She's gonna be okay. Still shaken up, but she'll be fine. Willow's still trying to make her believe that you guys aren't going to disappear on her."

"What did Angel say?"

"Some oracle-y Powers That Be types who are in real good with the Fates filled him in after he got the key thingamajig so he'd wanna send it here. Will's gonna check for the picture of that tattoo as soon as she can get off the couch without Dawn freaking out. Was she this bad when I kicked the bucket?"

Tara smiled. "Worse."

Buffy nodded as if the answer gave her some satisfaction and she looked at Faith as if just noticing that she was there too. "Let's go."

"Huh?" the brunette queried, genuinely confused.

"Patrol." The petite Slayer said, rolling her eyes. "There's gonna be nothing here but research in a minute and I want to keep an eye on you. Angel might trust you, but I don't."

"Whatever, B. Eye all you want." The smile on her face was cocky, but neither of the other women missed the hurt undertone in her voice.

"Right…uh…I'm gonna go, um…check on Dawn real quick and let the gang know what's up and then we'll go."

"You an Soul Boy musta caught the same kinda crazy." Faith said once Buffy was back inside. "You just can't fix some things."

"In my experience," Tara said, standing up and dusting herself off. "Everything can be fixed…It just depends on how badly you want it."

*

Callia could honestly say that she had never wanted anything so badly in her exceedingly long life. She knew better than to count her chickens before they hatched, but the feeling of all the pieces coming together was divine. There was a long way to go yet and she still had no idea where the other key was or where the temple had been moved, but things were looking up. She glanced over at Warren who was dozing lightly in his seat, his head pressed against the window of the limousine.

She was not particularly fond of the idea of having to rely on the human's help, but she had no choice. The arrogant man would prove to be not only a valuable distraction for the Guardians and the Slayer, but his intelligence could be very useful to the Kindred. Once they got to Wales, she would tell him about the timeline the Guardians had changed, tell him that he had been nearer to killing the Slayer than he had thought. Perhaps that would give him motivation though it did not seem that he needed much.

Sighing, the raven-haired woman leaned back and watched the scenery bleed by. It would be a while before they got back to the mansion she was using as a makeshift headquarters, and there was much work to be done. Callia felt lucky that there were still remnants of human cults devoted to Kadross who felt honored to give the Kindred whatever they needed. It irritated her that they had been forced to go into hiding after Eurynomus had taken control of the Kindred, treated like rats. It was disgusting.

The Guardians. It was their fault. Their very existence was an affront to everything she stood for. They were designed to pass judgment without thinking. What had the Kindred done to anyone? In their own dimension, they ruled everyone's lives, but when they had started living in mortal realms, they regulated themselves to the background. The Kindred loathed to be associated with the First Evil and did their best to distance themselves from his lunacy.

The First was almost unfathomably powerful, it was true, but he went about everything all wrong. He spread himself far too thin. He was too greedy. Kadross and the Kindred were too smart for that. Her god would never allow them to fight unnecessary battles just as a show of power. It was Kadross who deserved to be the supreme Lower Being, not the childish First, who would forever grapple with the need for power.

Callia was not the type of person who only formed half-plans. She knew exactly what she wanted to happen and as the eldest member of the Kindred, it was her job to make sure that it happened. There was more to this than just freeing Kadross, there was more than getting revenge on the Guardian's line for imprisoning her maker and cutting off the Kindred's power, it was about what was owed them. Evil was a chaotic mess of beings that did as they pleased. Kadross would bring order to that chaos and Callia was convinced that having order and structure would be enough to be able to permanently tip the balance of good and evil.

It would take a great deal of power to accomplish what was necessary, but if everything kept going as planned, she would have the ability to see that plan come to fruition. The Guardians did not stand a chance, even with the first key. She almost pitied them, really. Especially because they would be the ones to give her the very thing she needed to assure Kadross' victory over The First.

*

Buffy watched with curiosity as Faith fought the vampire that had jumped out in front of them. Just like the last three the brunette had slain, she wasted no time. It was clear from the dirt on the vampire's clothes and the fact that he was dressed in a suit that he had just risen and had no concept of who he was dealing with. Faith dodged his awkward swings with an almost uninterested ease, letting him stumble over his own feet before she plunged her stake through his heart, causing the vampire to explode into a hiss of dust and ash.

Brushing herself off, the dark Slayer continued through the cemetery with the blonde following her. Buffy noticed that Faith's fighting had been precise and controlled; it confused her. She was expecting the taller woman to attack with the crazed fervor that she was famous for and this new side of her was a tad unsettling.

"What's up?" the brunette asked, turning around. Buffy had not even realized that she had stopped walking. "Somethin else out there?" Faith scanned the shadows of the cemetery, trying to feel for another presence.

"What's your deal?" the blonde asked instead, her voice coming out a little more harshly than she intended.

"My deal?"

"Yeah…you just waltz through here and expect everything to be fine because Angel sent you? You don't fight like you used to, you're playing the hell out of this new leaf thing and you're trying to get us to be okay with you by buddying up with Tara…What's your deal?"

"Sounds like you're the one with the deal, B. I don't expect anything from any of you. Never have. Angel wanted me to be here, so I'm here…and Blondie takes me seriously, I like that. Doesn't have fuck all to do with you, Summers." She clenched her fist around her stake. "Can we go dust some vamps now, or you wanna keep hosting wheel of morality?" she shook her head and continued walking. "Whatever. The sooner we figure out this mystic key thing, the sooner I can go back to LA, so let's play happy Slayers for a while, huh?"

Buffy nodded at Faith's back and followed her through the row of tombstones and mausoleums. She could tell by the brunette's tense stride that she was pissed and the blonde actually preferred it that way. She knew how to deal with angry Faith. Remorseful, apologetic Faith was just too far of a trip into the strange and bizarre.

The blonde was so caught up in her thoughts that she was taken completely by surprise when Faith spun on her heel and barreled towards her. The smaller woman braced herself in order to hold her ground. Though she was much faster than Faith, the rouge Slayer was stronger and she knocked Buffy off her feet, tackling her to the ground just as the blonde heard something whistle over their heads and imbed itself with a 'thock' onto a nearby tree. Out of the corner of her eye, the older Slayer saw a flash of movement and a person shaped shadow dart away.

"You okay?" Faith asked, pushing herself off the ground and away from Buffy, holding her hand out to help her up.

"Yeah." She replied, surprised. She took the hand offered and Faith pulled her off the ground. "Uh, thanks."

The brunette shrugged. "Don't mention it." She looked to where the figure had disappeared, but they were long gone so she turned her attention to the tree and pulled out the small throwing dagger that had been hurled at Buffy's head and held it out without really looking at it. "Friend of yours?"

Buffy took the knife and turned it over in her hand, the blade glistening in the moonlight. On the handle, inlaid in gold, was a vertical line with three horizontal lines segmenting it in the middle. A perfect circle sat at the apex of the vertical line and it had one short line coming out of the center flanked by two longer lines. She did not recognize the symbol and that never boded well. She handed it back to Faith and shook her head but the brunette went wide-eyed.

"This is the same tattoo that the dude with the stone had!"

"You're sure?"

"Dead sure. Dammit!" she threw a punch at the tree, causing a huge splinter in the trunk and her knuckles to bleed. "It didn't seem important then…I thought it was just a tattoo, but now…"

"We better get back to the house."

*

"What do you think all of this means?" Willow asked her girlfriend as she steeped bags of tea in the mugs in front of her.

After finding no information about the picture Angel had sent, Anya and Xander had left with promises of meeting at the Magic Box in the morning to try again with better-suited books. Dawn had finally been put to bed after much reassurance, and now, they were just waiting for Buffy to get back from patrol. The house was mostly dark except for the light in the living room and the fluorescent bulb over the stove, the smell of lavender beginning to fill the room as the small bags steamed in the hot water. Willow sat next to Tara at the counter, bringing the cups with her and setting one down in front of the blonde.

"I don't know." Tara replied honestly, her fingers growing hot as she wrapped them around her cup. "Maybe it's something good?"

"You think so?" she took a tentative sip of her tea and winced slightly as her taste buds were accosted with hot water.

"Not really." The blonde said sheepishly. She brushed some of Willow's hair away from her green eyes and smiled reassuringly. "Whatever it is, we'll get through it."

The younger witch turned her head towards her girlfriend and rested her jaw in one hand. "I know. I just…I was liking the whole normal stuff that was going on…I mean, aside from the run of the mill vampire slash demon stuff."

"I know what you meant."

Willow sighed. "I'm just a little jumpy about this. Wh-what if something happens to you and I can't protect you? Or someone tries to make us go all evil again? Or…"

"Whatever it is, we'll get through it." Tara repeated, cutting off any Willow-babble before it started. She rested her hand on top of the redhead's and squeezed gently.

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Make me feel like everything is okay?"

The blonde witch smiled and raised the hacker's free hand to her face, kissing the back of her hand. "Magic, of course."

Willow smiled "Maybe it's not gonna be so bad…even if Faith's here."

Tara frowned slightly. "You should give her a chance."

"What for?" the redhead scowled. "We've all given her more than enough chances. Plus, she put a knife to my throat!"

"She's trying, I can see it in her energy…she wants to be good, she just needs more people to give her the chance."

"It was a really sharp knife."

"I can't make you like her, but you of all people should know what it's like to need forgiveness for mistakes you've made."

The hacker frowned. "Ouch." She stared into her half empty cup, contemplating the blonde's words. Tara of course, was right, she was rarely wrong when it came to reading other people. In some corner of her brain, Willow knew that it was silly to hold a grudge against the rouge Slayer when it was so obvious that she was trying to change, but they had been tricked by her before.

"She could have left prison anytime she wanted." Tara pointed out, knowing what the redhead was thinking. "She didn't even want to come here. Faith is lost, Willow. Her aura isn't as tainted, but I don't think it's going to stay that way if she's constantly surrounded by people that don't believe in her. Remember what happened to you when you didn't have anyone to support you."

"Jeeze, you should be a therapist, you know that?"

The blonde laughed amusedly. "So I've been told."

"I also really hate it when you're right." The Wicca pouted.

"No you don't." She leaned across the short gap between them and kissed the redhead briefly. "You'll try to be nice?"

"Only because I love you."

"And because I'm right." Tara teased.

"That too. You know, you get entirely too much pleasure out of being right."

The witch arched a delicate eyebrow. "Jealous?"

Willow opened her mouth to offer a witty retort when the kitchen door flew open, the two Slayers tumbling into the kitchen and slamming the door shut behind them. Faith was looking out of the window on the door at the darkness they had just jettisoned themselves from, her eyes darting around as if looking for something. Buffy slumped onto a chair at the counter and ran a hand through her hair. Both Slayers were breathing heavily; they must have run all the way back.

"What happened?" Willow asked, her tone concerned.

"Hell if we know!" Faith supplied, turning away from the window, her face rosy with the effort of running. "Went on a tour of the cemeteries." She started, perching herself on the countertop across from where the other three women sat. "A little vamp dusting while you guys were here doing the book thing. Outta no place someone chucked a knife at B. Almost got her to, but she's pretty good at hittin the deck."

"Buffy?"

The blonde Slayer nodded her head in affirmation. "Actually, if Faith hadn't been there…" She did not finish the thought. "We didn't see who it was; they were smart and kept to the shadows. Whoever it was didn't try to fight us directly and brought along friends. When we were on our way back, we had a couple more sharp pointy projectiles winged at us."

Tara frowned deeply. "Who do you think it was?"

"We have an idea." She looked over at Faith who reached into the sleeve of her jacket and dropped the aforementioned knife on the table with a loud clatter. "This is what they were throwing at us…the design on the handle is the same as a tattoo Faith saw when she got the key."

"Oh god, that's the same symbol in the picture Angel sent." Willow proclaimed, not wanting to touch the knife.

Buffy sighed heavily and wiped a hand over her tired face. "We're not gonna get anything done tonight. We weren't followed, but me and Faith will check around the house a couple of times just to make sure. We'll deal with this in the morning."


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: **Thanks for the sweet review, D'Lark. You sure know how to inflate a girl's ego =D

Sorry for the lack in updating. I keep getting all tied up with work stuff and life stuff. I know, lame, right?

"How did this happen?" Callia shouted, clenching her fists. Though her tone was not harsh, the man in front of her trembled and bowed his head, unable to meet her gaze. The raven-haired woman paced in front of him as he knelt on the floor, ignoring Warren who sat in a chair next to her desk, watching them with interest. "I asked you a question!"

The sandy-haired man lifted his gaze briefly. "W-we thought that's what you wanted…" he said, his voice shaking.

"We? Who is 'we,' Algric? You are the de facto leader of the Sunnydale Kindred. It was your decision to make yourself known to the Slayers and because of that; you have given the Guardians too much information."

"Please, Mistress…I meant no harm."

Callia sighed and stopped pacing. The remaining Kindred were few in numbers. The humans that belonged to cults of Kadross in the hopes of attaining Kindred status outnumbered those who were actually Kindred. As such, it pained her to dispose of one of her own, but Algric had failed her, had failed all Kindred by betraying them. He had acted impulsively and rash, as if he were some horrid demon off the street. Good intentions or not, he had to be dealt with in ordinance with the laws of the Kindred.

"Algric, it pains me to do this, believe me…but you know as well as I do how important the laws are. Without them, we are no better off than agents of The First." She rested her hand on top of his head. "I do this with a heavy heart, but you know it must be done. There are not many of us now, but once Kadross is restored, that can be changed. You do understand, don't you?"

Algric nodded his head solemnly. Callia smiled sadly and dropped her hand to his jaw, stroking the side of his face gently. It truly was a pity. Before Kadross had been sealed, the sandy-haired Kindred had been unfathomably loyal and she did not doubt that he thought his course of action was helping. She looked into his soulful blue eyes for a moment before placing a kiss on his forehead and snapping his neck. He fell limply to the ground, landing on his stomach and the raven-haired woman lifted up the bottom of his shirt, revealing the mark of the Kindred, which every full member was tattooed with. Frowning, she placed her hand on the tattoo and it began to glow with an intense blue light before disappearing completely. She closed her eyes and turned her head away, unwilling to shed tears in front of the human next to her desk.

If Kadross had not been sealed, Algric's life energy would have been united with their god's power and in that way, he would have lived on, but Kadross was sealed and Algric's death was upsetting, but necessary. She stood up straight and brushed her hands together a few times to keep her eyes from watering. Algric had been someone she considered a friend. They would have to leave for Wales now to keep everything on track. She beckoned Warren to follow her out as she stepped over the body without looking back.

*

"They're called the Kindred." Willow announced loudly, looking up from the ancient Sanskrit book she held delicately in her hands, a large picture of the tattoo taking up a quarter of one page.

"Great." Faith said from her spot by the training room door, her tone bored and her hair damp with sweat. They had all agreed early on that the best place for Faith was out of the way when there was research to be done. "How do we kill em?"

Willow opened her mouth to say something bordering on disparaging when she noticed Tara shake her head almost imperceptibly. Sighing, the redhead leaned back in her chair and looked around the Magic Box. "I don't know, it doesn't say."

"What does it say?" Buffy asked, coming out of the training room holding a towel. She had wanted to be better than Faith, more useful, so she had tried to help with researching before Xander had politely suggested that she go keep an eye on Faith. She knew she must have been getting irritating if Xander of all people wanted her out of the way. She had not said much to Faith while they were training, and they stuck to opposite sides of the room, but truthfully, the small Slayer had been hoping that there would be occasion for them to spar.

"Well," Willow said, bringing Buffy's attention back to the matter at hand. "It doesn't look like there's much here…" she squinted slightly at the words, trying to translate them faster. "The Kindred are the semi-divine children of the god Kadross, a malevolent entity with no ties to the… Niaadihetu Amaggala…" She furrowed her brow and looked at Tara who nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"What is it?" Xander asked, his face showing concern at their expressions.

Willow cleared her throat. "The First Evil." She looked up from the book. "Buffy, if this god thing isn't part of the First, then these Kindred aren't like any demon, god or vampire we've ever come across."

The blonde Slayer nodded her head contemplatively, but her expression was passive. "Go on." She instructed, her eyes far away.

The hacker nodded and looked down at the book. "…A malevolent entity with no ties to the First Evil. Fortunately, Kadross was sealed by the Guardians, trapped in a coffin gilded with stones from the very Heavens. Without their deity, the force which binds the Kindred together deteriorated until they were left as nothing more than super-powered children. Before the Guardians could figure out a way to take control of the Kindred, Eurynomus, the Eater of Flesh, harvested their wills and filled them with energy derived from the First Evil.

"They are very strong and very cunning. Kindred must be handled with caution. They have human initiates who are marked by a circular tattoo. A full tattoo shows their status as one of the Kindred. Fortunately, with Kadross sealed, the Kindred cannot make more of themselves, but they can garner initiates who can be bequeathed a few powers. Luckily, due to Eurynomus' control, there is no way for them to properly initiate humans. As long as he is in control, they will be less of a threat and should be considered as acting under the will of Eurynomus and by extension, the First."

"I would think they would be happy that you vanquished Eurynomus." Anya interjected into the tense silence. "I mean, you basically freed them from slavery."

"Ahn," Xander said loudly but gently. "Not helping."

Anya shrugged her shoulders and leaned sideways against the front counter. "I'm just saying…" she muttered under her breath.

"A-anya's right." Tara spoke up; ignoring the self-satisfied grin the demon shot her. "The Kindred aren't tied to the First…s-so why would they go after Buffy and Faith? If we freed them, why aren't they more, um, friendly?"

"Sounds like they're up to somethin." Faith provided.

"And if there's anyone who knows about being 'up to something' it would be you." Xander shot.

Faith rolled her eyes. "Take a pill, X-man." She turned to Buffy. "So what's the game plan, coach?"

The small Slayer wrinkled her nose distastefully and raised her shoulders once. "You and I should go back out and look for some of these Kindred. Hopefully we'll be more ready for them this time. You guys, just take it easy until we can figure out what they're up to… Maybe do some research on what kind of deity Kadross is. If there's not enough information about the Kindred, we might be able to figure out what they're up to if we know about their maker… and be careful." She looked pointedly at the witches. "Especially you two. If they know who we are, they definitely know who you are."

*

Kestrel blinked her wide blue eyes and hummed a happy tune in her head as she stalked the Guardians. She was about three hundred meters away from them, but she could see them clearly as they exited the magic store. She knew they would not see her, but she ducked her frame and flattened herself against the roof of the building kitty-corner to the Magic Box anyway. Sneaking her gaze between two great metal vents, she watched them idle on the sidewalk next to the store, giving each other honeyed looks.

The last Guardians had been a male and a female, but like the last ones, these ones were beautiful. Unlike the last ones, these two were witches. She could feel their power wash over her and it caused her to shudder slightly. Kestrel wondered idly if they knew how much power they had together before her mind deeply ensconced her in another subject.

"I can't believe Anya just let us go like that when there's still research to do." Willow was saying as they linked hands and walked down the sidewalk.

Kestrel un-hunched herself and muttered under her breath, nearly giggling with delight as her form became transparent. Though she could no longer become invisible, this did nicely for surveillance. She leapt gracefully onto the pavement, bringing a rush of air and a loud thud with her that startled a nearby cat back into the shadows. She slunk after the Guardians, trying to keep her frame in direct sunlight, where she would be less visible.

"She probably wanted to be alone with Xander." Tara replied, swinging their arms back and forth gently.

"You think so?"

This conversation was boring. Kestrel tuned them out and pirouetted after them, half listening to their conversation. Guardians were boring, she decided. The last ones only ever spoke of menial things as well. She resumed her merry internal humming and held her arms above her head as she danced down the street. She liked that Callia trusted her enough to let her spy on the Guardians; it was important work. She stopped her prancing suddenly and ran a hand through her short, choppy hair. Yes, spying on the Guardians, that was what she was doing.

Kestrel quickened her pace and walked as close to the Guardians as she dared. She sneered at their backs, her hands twitching at her sides. The blonde tensed for a moment and shot a glance over her shoulder, causing the young woman to drop down suddenly.

"What's wrong?" Willow asked, squinting in the Kindred's direction but not really seeing her.

Tara shrugged. "I thought there was someone there…"

Kestrel stuck her tongue out at the Guardians. She had been too close. She skipped backwards and prepared herself for a very long and very boring afternoon of watching the two women when a buzzing from her pocket caused her to dart into an alleyway, regaining her opacity as she pulled the cell phone from her pocket. The white-haired woman stared at the vibrating object for a moment, trying to remember how it worked. Callia's name flashed across the screen in glowing blue letters. She carefully flipped the phone open and pressed it to her ear but did not speak.

"Kestrel?" Callia always said her name softly, as a mother says the name of her daughter.

"Callia." Kestrel answered in her best business voice. She felt like a secret agent.

"Are you feeling alright, Kestrel?"

The shorthaired woman smiled at the concern. Callia had always been concerned for her. If it had not been for her, all other Kindred would have thrown her away after Kadross was sealed. She was faulty, but Callia had overlooked her defect. "You wouldn't let them throw me away like garbage, would you?"

"Of course not, duckie." Her tone was gentle; her words slow and deliberate. She was used to speaking past the other woman's madness. "How are the Guardians?"

"Boring." She paused and peeked her head around the corner. They had not gone far; the Guardians were ogling something in a shop window a little ways down the street but she was not interested enough to hone in on what it was. "Boring." She repeated more vehemently. "I'm tired of playing a ghost. May I come home now? There's nothing today, just talking and talking."

"Yes, love. You've got to go to the site though, all right? We will meet you there."

We? She must have meant herself and the new human. "Won't we go together?" Kestrel pouted at the brick wall across from her. The others dare not treat her badly for fear of Callia's retribution, but she could read their faces like books and she hated the looks they gave her when they thought they were being sneaky.

"No." Callia's voice was firm and impatient. "Warren is not ready for you yet, he won't know how to act. You're to go to the site first and make ready our arrival. Do you understand?"

"I overstand, mother."

"Kestrel."

She frowned at the reprimanding voice. "I understand." The silver-eyed Kindred corrected, concentrating hard on making her words come out properly.

"Good. Go to where Algric was staying. Sheridan and the others will be by to take you to the site and help you prepare."

"Was? Algric is a was?"

"Yes. He betrayed out existence to the Guardians warriors."

"I will weep for him, Callia, but not right now. I will see you in the old place at the new time." Kestrel closed the phone without saying goodbye or waiting for any other instruction. Humming aloud, she peered around the corner, only to find that the Guardians had gone and she tore out of the alleyway, sprinting in the opposite direction. She ran for the sheer joy of running, singing Algric a dirge on the way.

*

Callia set the black receiver back onto its rotary dialed cradle and pinched the bridge of her nose. Kestrel was a little much to deal with at times, but she truly cared for the girl. She tapped her fingernails on the desktop lightly; she would have to explain Kestrel to Warren, if only so he would keep his wits about her. She was too volatile sometimes and the hazel-eyed woman wondered if the white haired woman would be able to complete her task.

She smiled and shook her head, rising out of her leather chair and striding confidently out of the office. Of course she would be ready, she would never put Kestrel in unnecessary danger. Her madness would only serve to prove her part. First, there was Wales. She would have time to help her ward prepare before then.

Callia found Warren in the parlor, talking with one of the initiates. His posture was cocky and the initiate looked suitably impressed causing the elder Kindred to roll her eyes. Humans and their egos. She cleared her throat, causing the initiate to avert his gaze and Warren stand up quickly.

"Has Steven attended to your wardrobe?" she asked, her tone somewhat disinterested.

Warren nodded his head gamely and patted his side where his requested firearm rested underneath a denim jacket. Humans and their weapons. "So what now? I'm still a little fuzzy on the checklist." He followed her out of the parlor and down the hallway where they collected a stream of people merging behind them. Once outside, they started moving off to the five vehicles parked near the house. He followed Callia to the limousine, warning himself to keep his eyes away from her hips.

"Now we go to Wales, Mr. Mears." She said smoothly, sliding into the backseat. "I'm going to show you where our power was lost and hopefully, there'll be a clue to find it again."

*

Willow frowned over the utter lack of information in the book she held but turned the page anyway, hoping for something. The world beyond their room was dark, Buffy having left a few hours ago to get Faith and go look for the Kindred. She had tried to relax like Buffy had told her, but she hated feeling like she could be doing something. She held the paperback up to her face, squinting slightly in the half-light of the lamp on Tara's side of the bed. The blonde's head was resting in her lap and judging from the even breathing, had drifted off to sleep. The redhead looked past her book and stroked a finger down her girlfriend's cheek, reminding herself that they could get through whatever this was.

She went back to trying to figure out more about Kadross. For a sixty-seventh edition of a compendium of ancient gods, the book lacked a lot of what she was looking for. She would have thrown the book at the dresser if Tara had not been asleep. Flipping to the index, she began the tedious search of looking for a possible transliteration of Kadross' name from another language.

Willow started a system that way; she would look up a few names, bookmark them with her fingers, and then read what she found when she ran out of fingers. The hacker tried to tell herself that every elimination was the same as finding information, but it was of little consolation. Feeling sudden movement, she lowered her book once more and frowned. Tara was shuddering, despite the relative warmth of the room, her brow furrowed deeply and the sighs of sleep suddenly became pitiful whimpers slipping past her lips. The redhead made soothing sounds and smoothed her girlfriend's hair back, tossing the book carelessly to the floor.

Normally, a gentle touch and a soft mumble was all it took to lull her back to sleep, but this nightmare must have been particularly bad. Tara was gritting her teeth and her whimpers had become a broken chorus of "stop" and "don't make me."

"Tara, wake up." The Wicca implored, shaking her shoulder slightly.

The blonde's eyes snapped open and she jerked herself into a sitting position, almost involuntarily. Her watery eyes looked around the room wildly for a moment before settling on Willow, recognition and relief flooding her features as she collapsed into the hacker's arms.

The redhead kissed the top of Tara's head and hugged the taller woman to her. She ran her hand in comforting circles around the taller witch's bare back, humming tunelessly. "Had a pretty bad one?" she asked softly, almost afraid to speak too loudly as the blonde settled her head on the hacker's shoulder and gripped her arms around her small frame.

"Y-yeah." The older witch replied, her voice cracking.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"I-I was…it, um…i-it." She sighed exasperatedly at herself and shook her head. "N-no."

Willow nodded and bit her lip, allowing them to fall into silence. She felt responsible for Tara's nightmares. In her mind, it had been her fault that she had not kept the blonde in her sight, it had been her fault that Maxwell had drugged her and forced evil through her. If there was anyone in the world that such a thing should never happen to, it was Tara.

"S-stop it, Willow." The blonde said, her voice firmer. She lifted her head to place a kiss on Willow's jaw and meet her gaze as the redhead looked down.

"Stop what?"

"Blaming yourself." She placed another kiss on the hacker's jaw. "I t-told you, it's not your fault. It…it just happens."

"I know, but I just don't like seeing you all upset…even and maybe especially when you're sleeping. I know you told me a million times that the nightmares aren't my fault, but…but I feel like they are. Like every time you look at me, you'll be reminded of some awful dream and-"

Tara drowned the babble in a heated kiss, putting her head on the redhead's chest as they pulled apart. "It's not your fault." She whispered against the skin on Willow's shoulder. "Say it."

"Not my fault." The younger Wicca mumbled, a little dazed. The blonde sat up further and the redhead was lost in the darkening blue of Tara's eyes. "But what if I make you remember all the awful,"

Tara pressed a finger to the hacker's lips and kissed her way along Willow's jaw line, ending at a perfectly pale earlobe. "Then help me forget." She mumbled, pulling the smaller woman down with her. For the rest of the night, all was right with the world.


	6. Chapter 6

Buffy picked her way through Shady Hill cemetery, Faith barely visible through the deep shadows in front of her. They were supposed to be looking for the Kindred, which the brunette Slayer, at least, was doing actively; stepping silently through a row of tombstones and placards, the muscles in her back and arms tensed. The blonde had stopped searching after the first hour of nothing more than a few vampires, there was too much on her mind and she needed to think.

She had been getting ready to meet Faith at the Restfield cemetery, where they had been attacked, when Tara had come into her room. The witch had implored Buffy to give Faith a chance, telling her about the brunette's changed aura and desire to be better, and Buffy had told the taller blonde that she would think it over. Patrol was probably the worst time to keep her promise, but it looked like the Kindred had all but vanished. Buffy trusted Tara's opinion and tried to heed any advice that her friend gave, but there was a part of her that just simply would not budge when it came to Faith.

The petite Slayer could not accurately describe why even the thought of Faith made her upset. If she were going to go the armchair psychologist route, she guessed that it disturbed her that they were so alike. If Buffy had not had her friends, had not had any support, she could have turned out just as deranged as the brunette. Up until the blonde's temporary drowning, there had never been two Slayer's before. There was no code of conduct or etiquette between two Chosen Ones, and Buffy figured that a lot of her feelings of betrayal fell into some sort of self-perceived concept of Slayer camaraderie.

Just like her problems with Willow, Buffy was struggling with feeling inadequate in helping someone that needed it. She had failed to save Faith and the thought irritated her in a way she could not comprehend. The fact that the brunette Slayer refused to be helped served only to keep the embers glowing in the fire of distrust and anger that Buffy had for her. Still, she could see a certain amount of sense in Tara's words. She had been lied to by Faith before and the only guarantee she had against that was Angel's confidence and Tara's observations.

"What?" Faith asked sourly, her hands crossed over her chest.

Buffy had not even realized that they had stopped walking, let alone that she was staring intently at her fellow Slayer. She shook her head to clear her mind and ignored Faith's perturbed expression. "Where are they?" she said by way of an answer. "One minute we're reenacting scenes from Indiana Jones, and now…"

"It's like they don't even exist." The brunette agreed, uncrossing her arms, her expression losing its irritation. "I dunno, B." she shrugged and leaned against a statue of a weeping angel. "Maybe they looked up the definition of 'Slayer' and hightailed it before we made with the beatings."

"Right." The small blonde agreed sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Because watching us run away is just so intimidating." She beckoned to the younger woman and they exited the cemetery and into the quiet streets. "Maybe that had just been a warning about something…"

"Or maybe they've gone someplace."

Buffy waved her hand in front of her face vigorously, dissipating the tobacco smoke from Faith's freshly lit cigarette. She was none too pleased with the dark Slayer's constant habit, but had refrained from commenting on it when she noticed that Faith had yet to smoke around her little sister and she seemed to make a concentrated effort on blowing the smoke away from other people. Buffy scowled internally, she had no idea why the positive changes in Faith bothered her so much.

"Where could they have gone?"

"No need to sound snooty 'bout it, B. I'm not them, I don't know."

"Sorry." She mumbled, surprising them both by apologizing. "This is important…this isn't just another day on the job for me…Willow and Tara –"

"I get it." Faith interrupted, holding up one hand while using the other to take a drag of her cigarette, stopping any rant before Buffy could really get started. "I get it." She blew the smoke out of the corner of her mouth, tilting her head as if she were trying to blow it over her shoulder, but her eyes remained on the blonde. "I'm on board; you don't have to explain it. I…" she trailed off as the nigh inaudible sound of rustling in the hedges bordering the cemetery caught their attention.

Exchanging a look, Buffy nodded and Faith squashed her barely smoked cigarette out onto the sidewalk. "I think we should get going." The brunette continued, her voice a little louder than before. "Looks like the Kindred ain't around, may as well call it a night."

"Sure." The blonde agreed just as loudly, her expression neutral as Faith inched towards the row of hedges.

The dark Slayer shot her arm into the neatly trimmed hedges, fishing around for a split second before hauling a teenage boy to his feet; he was trembling. "What the hell?" Faith said disgustedly as she dragged the black-haired boy out onto the sidewalk. "Isn't it past your bedtime, tiger?" she asked, not releasing the grip she had on his upper arm.

His cocoa colored skin blanched and he tried unsuccessfully to twist out of the Slayer's grasp. In his efforts to get away, Buffy noticed a tattoo on his other arm and she wrenched the boys sleeve up to his shoulder, revealing the initiate tattoo of the Kindred.

"But you're just a kid." The blonde said, her voice confused. She shook her head and frowned at him. "Why are you following us?"

"Let me go, bitch!" he squealed, his voice clearly more confident than he felt as he squirmed in an attempt to free himself.

Faith tisked and shook her head, raising the boy's arm a little higher and making him wince. "You got a mouth on you, kid! Now answer the nice lady's questions before you end up having to go to prom in a wheelchair."

"Where are the Kindred?" Buffy asked, her hands on her hips.

"I don't know." The boy spat.

"Damn, B! What're they teachin kids in this outfit?" she shook the boy gruffly. "C'mon, kid, don't lie. I don't really wanna break all your bones, but I can guarantee you that it'd be easy…you'd just be laying here, all broken and bloodied up…" she looked around the dark streets nonchalantly. "There's a lotta vamps out…" she trailed off, not needing to finish the threat.

"They, they went to Holyhead." He stammered, fear in his wide brown eyes. "I-I don't know what for. Th-they wanted me to keep an eye on you, that's all…just keep an eye on you."

Buffy snorted her disgust but nodded, seeing that he was telling the truth.

Faith loosened her grip on his arm, and gripped his shoulders instead, spinning him around to face her. "Listen, kid." She started, her voice low and serious. "Quit running around with these suckers. They're not your friends and they sure as hell aren't your family if they're gonna let your scrawny ass run after a couplea Slayers. You got parents, kid?"

He nodded.

"Well go home to them, they're probably missing you." She tilted her head towards the tattoo on his arm. "It's not too late for you, get that shit covered up. I can't promise I'll be this nice if I see you again. We understand each other?"

He swallowed audibly and nodded more vigorously.

Faith nodded firmly and reached into the pocket of her jacket, easily keeping him pinned to the spot with one hand. She waved the vial of holy water in front of his face, turning the bottle so he could read the label. "You know how to use this?"

"Y-yeah."

She pressed it into his palm. "Good. Go home, and don't ever let me catch you slippin and running with the Kindred. No one can save you from an angry Slayer, kid. No one." She released her grip on his shoulder, causing him to stumble backwards for a moment before he regained his balance and took off like a shot in the direction opposite the way they had been walking. Faith produced another cigarette from her pocket and lit it, raising her eyebrows over her cupped hands at Buffy. The petite Slayer was staring at her, a look of confusion on her features. "What?" the brunette prompted as she walked away.

"Why did you just let him go?" her voice was as confused as her expression.

"Are you serious, B?" Faith asked incredulously over her shoulder as the blonde followed her. "What was I gonna do to that skinny ass kid?" She shook her head. "I'd probably break him without trying. Did you want me to rough him up or something? He looked younger than Dawn."

Buffy nodded her agreement, covering her surprise by pressing her lips together. This was all too surreal. At least she had something to focus on now. The Kindred had gone to Holyhead, so that was where she wanted to be. She could sort through the weirdness later.

*

Warren was outwardly impressed with the kind of clout the Kindred had. The Falcon50 jet they had boarded was luxurious and beautiful, something he would have never thought he would see the inside of in all his life. It was a small jet, holding only six other people besides himself and Callia, but there was a couch and a bar with all the amenities and Warren almost felt sorry for the Kindred who would be coming on a larger, slower jet. Almost.

"This is something else." He confided to Callia who was sitting across from him in a plush armchair-like seat. "How did you manage to keep your connections if you were being controlled?"

Callia shrugged and smoothed a wisp of hair that had escaped from her perpetual bun. "Such was our hold on those aspiring to become Kindred." She pulled her gaze away from the window and regarded him momentarily. "We will make you an initiate while in Wales."

The dark-haired genius nodded, seemingly pleased at the prospect. He had been told about the powers that would be bestowed upon him once he took up the mark of an initiate and he was nearly gleeful at the idea. As Callia herself would perform the initiation rite, he expected his abilities would be a bit beyond what was normally given in the rite.

"We'll be meeting someone there as well." She continued, bringing him out of his reverie. "Her name is Kestrel."

"Great." He said, recognizing the name from overhearing Callia on the phone. "She's another Kindred?"

"Not quite." She waited until his eyes were firmly focused on her before she continued. "The Kindred were all human once." She began. "For some, like me, it has been so long since we have been human that we can't remember what it's like to be anything other than Kindred. Kestrel…Kestrel is different than even that and it's imperative that you do nothing to anger her."

Warren shrugged. He could deal with some ancient weirdo just fine.

"Kestrel isn't Kindred the same way I am or the way that you may become." Callia continued, her tone irritated at his easy dismissal. "I am currently the eldest Kindred. While we have infinitely long lives, we can be killed. Before my appointment as Kadross' right hand, our Lord had the idea to rectify that. Like the Gods of the ancients, he wished to truly have a representation of his power. Not just the division of it as we are. So like those ancient deities, Kadross attempted to produce a child with a human."

"So she's a demigod? That's not so bad, I'll know enough to behave."

Callia chuckled humorlessly. "You don't understand…Kadross, as I've told you before, is an anomaly. He's not a product of pure Good or pure Evil, but rather the energies their battles have left over. He's not attached to either side, Kadross is his own. Normally, should a divine being of either origin have children with a human, they are a reflection of the energy that made them. Humans are made from the same cosmic stuff as the most benevolent god and the most malevolent god…they're…" she paused, searching for the right word. "Compatible. Kadross found out the hard way that he is not compatible with your kind. It's true that Kestrel is of divine origin and she has powers that surpass my own, but she is quite mad."

"She's crazy?"

"Completely. It's necessary to your own survival that you treat her carefully, like a child, but do not patronize her. She is far more powerful than I and I cannot stop her all the time. Do you understand?"

"Yeah." He replied nervously. "A little too well. So why bring her in on this at all?"

"She was in on this long before you, Warren." She replied, her tone warning. "And you'll do well to treat her with the proper respect. Mad though she may be, she will know you as her inferior."

He nodded, burying his agitation at being called inferior; by a woman no less. "So what's she going to be doing?"

Callia smiled, showing her perfectly white teeth. "She is going to infiltrate the Guardians and make sure that they bring us the key to Kadross' freedom."

*

"So how're we gonna do this?" Willow asked, dumping an unnecessary amount of sugar in her coffee.

All the residents of the Summers household were gathered in the kitchen. Tara and Dawn at the stove, busy with pancakes and eggs; Buffy and Willow sat at the counter, going over what could be done about getting to Holyhead and if they needed to go at all. Buffy shrugged and yawned loudly, wishing that she had been able to get to sleep when she had gotten home.

"I dunno." The Slayer admitted, crunching thoughtfully on a piece of bacon from a plate in the middle of the table. "I mean, if they up and left like that…it could be important…but I don't wanna leave Dawn by herself."

"Hello!" Dawn started, dropping an absurd amount of cheese into the eggs she was scrambling. "I'm sixteen! I don't need a babysitter, I babysit!"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "You've lost your mind if you think I'm leaving you here by yourself."

Dawn huffed, her face pulled into a scowl for a moment before brightening. "You could always take me with you!"

"No." the Slayer replied firmly.

"What about Faith?" Tara interjected reasonably, flopping a few chocolate chip pancakes onto a plate and handing it to Dawn.

"What about her?" Willow asked cautiously, accepting the plate of plain pancakes from Tara and sliding a cup of coffee over towards her girlfriend as the blonde sat down.

"Well, I'm guessing she's not going with us." Tara said diplomatically. "Xander and Anya have work, and who better to protect Dawnie then a Slayer?"

"I'm with Tara." Dawn piped up, piling her more-cheese-than-eggs-eggs ontop of her pancakes.

"Tare, I dunno if that's…" Willow started nervously.

"No, it's okay." Buffy said suddenly, trying not to look too disgusted as her little sister dumped blueberry syrup onto everything on her plate. She inclined her head towards Willow, knowing what she was thinking. "We'll only be gone a couple of days, right? And you heard what she did for that kid last night…"

Willow nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, I guess."

"Besides, after everything that Faith has done to us, she's never once done anything to Dawn. Never."

"That's because she knows that I'm the better Summers." The brunette said around a mouthful of food.

Buffy rolled her eyes, an action that was as natural as breathing when her sister was involved. "I called Giles last night when I got in, he's got a friend out in Holyhead who owns a place…he'll meet us there and help out."

Willow smiled, placated by the prospect of seeing the former Watcher. "I guess a few days wouldn't be so horrible."

*

"No staying up late." Buffy said a few hours later, ticking her list of don'ts off for the fourth time. Faith merely looked amused as she leaned against the frame of the front door. The smirk on her face just made the blonde want to run through the list a few more times. "Make sure she does her homework, make sure she doesn't eat just junk, no parties, no boys at the house…as a matter of fact, no anyone at the house. Make sure she does her chores."

"Buffy…" Dawn whined from next to Faith, resisting the urge to stamp her foot. "Aren't you going to be late if you stand here all day playing Mommy Dearest?"

The blonde scowled at Faith who chuckled at the comment. The brunette Slayer held up her hands. "Relax, B. The girl is sixteen. She practically watches herself."

"Told you." Dawn shot smugly.

Buffy threw up her hands exasperatedly as Willow honked the car horn from the street in front of the house. "I can't believe I'm doing this." She mumbled, giving Dawn a brief hug before the youngest Summers bounded gleefully back into the house.

"Take care of her." The blonde said, staring hard at Faith.

"Hey, don't worry about Pint Size." She responded. "Go find out what those creeps are up to, Thumbelina will be fine. If there's any more of those Kindred around, I'll take care of em."

"Faith…" Buffy started, shifting her weight uncomfortably. "Thanks."

The brunette smiled widely and shrugged her shoulders. "It's nothing, B. Thanks."

Faith knew that Buffy would understand that she was thanking her for an opportunity to prove herself and being trusted with Dawn was a much bigger deal than they were both playing it off as. She watched her sister Slayer get into Willow's car and stared after them until they were out of sight before closing the door.


	7. Chapter 7

Willow rubbed her eyes furiously as the tiny black taxi jounced along the road. The last minute trip had caused them to spend an entire day and a half either cramped in overpriced and uncomfortable airplane seats, or running across huge tracts of airport territory to meet a connecting flight. The redhead was sure that her circadian rhythms would be off for the next year. Jet lag was sure to rear its ugly head in her direction at any moment and though it was dark outside, it oculd have been three in the afternoon for all she knew. Either by virtue of being the Slayer, or by virtue of being herself; Buffy had managed to sleep through most of the journey, only coherent when there was coffee, food, or baggage involved. Even now, she was dozing in the front seat next to the ruddy cab driver who had picked them up from the airport.

Next to her, Tara's face turned towards the window where the dark mottled blobs of scenery passed them by. The blonde's eyes were half closed, her head tilted up to the gap in her slightly open window, apparently catching the scents of the Irish Sea. The hacker smiled slightly and made a mental note that they would have to come back when the world was not on the verge of ending; or at least, when they were not involved in the middle of it. Slumping down in the leather seat, Willow turned her own attentions to the world outside her window. While she had never been to Wales before, it still caused nostalgia for England to stir within her. A large part of her was feeling the childlike sting of disappointment that she could not speak to the coven that had taught her so much. They would never know how much they had helped her and she would never get the chance to tell them. Part of her wanted to cry.

She jumped out of her thoughts as she felt Tara's hand slip into hers. Facing her girlfriend, she found the blonde smiling gently at her before mouthing the words 'it's okay' before returning to her olfactory exploration of the world beyond the cab. Giving the dark interior a small smile, Willow squeezed the hand in her own and tried to cheer up. She had always had a strong connection with Tara, even before she recognized it for what it was; but ever since their elevated positions, as it were, the connection had grown. Even without touching or looking at each other, they could sometimes feel what the other was feeling with an intensity that made their previous connection almost seem paltry. It was as if they were literally one soul in two bodies.

The cab lurched to a halt and Willow gratefully pulled out the fare money along with a tip, denying the cabbie's kindly offer to unload their bags as well. She slipped out of the car, overjoyed at being able to stretch her legs and giggled as Buffy stumbled out after Tara, yawning and rumpling her hair.

"What time is it?" The Slayer asked, giving a half hearted flick of her hand as the cabbie waved and drove off.

"Two a.m." the hacker replied offhandedly as she picked up her duffle bag from the sidewalk and shoved Buffy's at her.

"No," the petite blonde corrected, her eyes more alert. "I mean Sunnydale time, not Here There Be Dragons time."

"Ten a.m."

"Good, it's not too early to call and make sure my house is still on its foundation. Where is this place, Will?"

The redhead glanced up and down the quiet neighborhood street before pointing at a non-descript grey house off to the left of a roundabout. "There. Good things the lights are on…I'd hate to be woken up by people I've never met at this hour."

*

"Faith, I'm home!" Dawn shouted into the house, dropping her bag inelegantly by the door. She bounded through the kitchen, grabbing an apple from the table before stepping through the door to the backyard. The younger Slayer was sitting on the ground against the house, puffing on a cigarette and undoing the laces on her running shoes. Dawn raised an eyebrow at the Slayer. "Isn't smoking kinda counterproductive to exercise?"

Faith smiled broadly and pulled her hair into a ponytail, wiping sweat from her forehead. "Nah." she replied, stubbing the cigarette out behind her as Dawn sat down. "Besides, I figure I should try and keep myself challenged, you know?" The taller brunette squinted her eyes at her charge and made a face. "Aren't you supposed to be in school, Pint Size? I know I'm the cool Slayer and all, but Buffy'll have my head on a pike if you're skipping classes."

The youngest Summers laughed and rolled her eyes. "Half-day. I would've been home earlier, but _some_one wouldn't come pick me up."

Faith pulled off her shoes and helped Dawn to her feet, leading them both into the house. "C'mon now, Thumbelina, Don't be like that! You know your sister doesn't want you on my bike."

"Yeah, yeah, rules one through five." She took an indignant bite of her apple. "So? I wouldn't tell! I had to get a ride home from Janice's mom just so I wouldn't have to endure the horrors of the bus!" she followed the taller woman into the living room, watching her drop her shoes on the floor. "A-and her little brother throws cheerios everywhere!" she emphasized her point by brushing cereal flakes off her shirt. "Plus, it would, um, be safer! You'd know where I was!"

Faith's laugh was loud and amused. "Nice try. I ain't lookin for a repeat fisticuffs with the captain of the Slayer Squad. Anything happens to you and that'll be a coma I won't wake up from."

Dawn's face pulled into a frown and she stared at the carpet. "That wasn't funny." She said quietly.

"Ah, shit." Faith sighed, placing her arm around Dawn's small shoulders. "Hey, c'mon…I didn't mean to make you upset… B's just counting on me not to mess this up. My permanent record with Principal Summers is pretty sad and the last thing I need is baby sis with a bad case of road rash."

Dawn looked up, her lower lip trembling. "You really think she would…?"

Faith shrugged, desperate to lighten the mood. She did not want to have this conversation, least of all with Dawn, but the girl had always liked her so much because she never pulled any punches. She never told the teen anything but the truth. "I dunno…" she ruffled Dawn's hair gently. "I just know that I'd be on red alert too, if I were her. She's just worried about you and she's just doing what she thinks is right."

"Yeah? Since when do you care what Buffy thinks?"

Faith shrugged noncommittally, but she thought about her answer. "I always have, Pint Size. I just got a funny way of showin it, that's all. You got homework?"

The teen wrinkled her nose and nodded, crunching into her apple again. "History."

Faith tilted her head and pretended to be lost in thought. "Tell you what…you go learn about crossin the Rubicon and whatnot and I'll take you on the bike to the Chinese place for lunch. It's not as far as school, but it'll work, right?"

"Ohmigawd, yes!" Dawn cried; her jubilant mood restored as she threw her arms around Faith's neck before racing towards her backpack. "I didn't even know you knew what the Rubicon was." She added as an afterthought, the statement holding no condescending tones.

The brunette Slayer shrugged sheepishly and started for the stairs for a shower. "Yeah, well, I'm not just a pretty face, yanno." She raised a warning finger. "Not one word to B, got it?"

Dawn made an 'x' motion with her index finger over her chest. "Cross my heart! No motorcycles and no Rubicon!"

Faith chuckled and half-jogged towards the hallway as the phone rang. "Summers residence," she drawled into the receiver. "Faith Lehane speaking."

"Uh…Faith?"

The younger Slayer felt her face flush with embarrassment and she covered it by quickly clearing her throat. "Hey, B. How was the flight?"

"Uh…good. What's with the phone etiquette, Miss Lehane?"

Faith rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue. "Angel used to have me answer phones after I…when I first started working with him. 'Sides, you'd probably have a litter if I'd said: 'City Morgue, you stab 'em, we slab 'em!'" The stifled laughter on the other end of the line gave her an odd sense of pride and she grinned at the wall opposite her.

"Yeah…Dawnie there? She had a half-day today. I forgot to tell you."

"Yep, she's in the dining room, quenching her thirst for knowledge."

"What'd you bribe her with?"

"Huh?"

"I can never get her to do her homework right when she comes home." She replied, accusatory. "Especially not on a half day. Faith, you better not be driving her around on that motorcycle."

Faith winced. "I haven't driven her anywhere." She answered honestly.

"Faith." Buffy's tone was more than enough warning.

"Just to Jade Dragon and back, I swear!"

"She could get killed between Jade Dragon and back!" the blonde counter pointed loudly, causing Faith to hold the phone away from her ear.

"Damn, B! Slayer hearing, remember? Look, I just said something to upset her and I was trying to make it up to her, it's gonna be a one time thing, honest! I was only gonna take the main roads and go under speed limit anyways. C'mon! I promised!" She heard Buffy sigh heavily on the other end of the line.

"Fine." Buffy mumbled.

"YES!" Dawn's voice shrieked into both their ears.

"Dawn, you nosey brat! Get off the phone and go do your homework!" the elder Slayer shouted, causing Faith's ears to ring. They heard Dawn giggle before a sharp click alerted them that she had hung up her receiver.

"So what's the situation there?"

"I don't know how long we're staying." Buffy started, her voice sounding suddenly very tired. "We've explained everything to Giles and his friend Alan. I woulda called right when we got here, but they had to hear the story five or six times before they went into some kind of research-a-thon. Giles thinks Will and Tara should stay here and Alan thinks we're gonna blow up the planet if they stay. Anything new around there?"

"Nope. Dusted some vamps last night after you guys left, but it really wasn't anything spectacular. I haven't seen any of those Kindred types…" she shifted her weight uncomfortably. "Listen, B…I can only imagine what you think about taking advice from me, but maybe it is a good idea if you guys came back, I mean…if that's where they all went, you're kinda like sitting ducks, right?"

"We'll be okay." Buffy replied firmly. "I'm not going to be here any longer than I have to be. Not with my sister by herself."

"Right." Faith replied, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice. "Well, you know…just be careful is all I'm sayin. Thumbelina would pitch a fit if anything happened."

"Oh, well, Faith…I didn't mean that she was by herself like that…I just meant…."

"Nah, it's cool B." She could do without the blonde's superiority complex infused pity. "Only reason why you stuck her with me is cause you didn't have a choice and you know I'd never do anything to her. Don't insult both of us and pretend like I was number one on the babysitting phone tree."

Buffy cleared her throat. "Uh…okay…well, we'll be back as soon as we figure out what the hell is going on, okay?"

"Sure. The house'll still be standing. Promise." Faith heard Buffy snort and she was sure that the shorter Slayer was rolling her eyes.

"Great…you promise."

"Do you want to talk to Dawn?" the brunette asked, her voice overly-saccharine, ignoring the blonde's sarcastic tone while fending off a sudden and desperate urge to chain smoke.

"Yeah. Faith, I…"

Buffy's voice trailed off as Faith loudly set the receiver next to the phone and made her way outside, calling Dawn to pick it up over her shoulder. Once outside, she stuck a cigarette between her lips and sat down on the front porch railing, squinting at the houses lining the block. Not for the first time, she thought about how stupid this was. No matter how much time had passed, no mater what Tara, Angel and even Wesley had so convincingly said, this was not going to work.

Every time Buffy started to have a normal conversation with her, the blonde would remember herself and go right back to biting comments. Faith, of course, did not grudge her that in the slightest, but she knew the other woman to be stubborn. Probably even more hardheaded than her, which was intimidating as hell. Angel, however, was convinced that she would never learn to forgive herself until Buffy forgave her. Despite every argument she had come up with against this statement, the more time she spent in Sunnydale, the more she realized that it was true and the feeling did not sit well with her.

"What's wrong?" Dawn asked, coming outside and leaning near her just as the Slayer lit her third cigarette.

"Nothin." Faith lied, tucking the cigarette behind her ear instead of lighting it.

"You can smoke around me. It's not like I'm gonna follow your example. Cigarettes are gross."

The taller brunette mock-scowled. "Yeah, they are pretty rank. You done with your homework?"

"Nope, I was talking to Buffy."

"Yeah? What'd Superslayer have to say? Is my leash long enough to leave the yard?"

Dawn chuckled and shook her head. Sometimes, she liked that Faith was just as moody as she was. "Oh you know…you gotta sleep in a box in the backyard now, but everything else seemed okay."

"Don't play, little sis, she'd do it."

"She asked how I thought you were doing…if I thought you seemed…you know."

"Figures." The brown-eyed Slayer harrumphed, sticking her cigarette back in her mouth but not lighting it. "What'd you tell her?"

"The truth." The teen replied, shrugging her shoulders. They fell into a prolonged silence, Faith scowling at the houses across the street and Dawn studying the Slayer. "Faith, can I tell you something honestly?"

"Of course."

"And you won't tell Buffy?" she said seriously.

"Yeah, Dawnie."

Dawn looked around as if Buffy would show up suddenly before locking eyes with the Slayer next to her. "Buffy doesn't think I know, but I remember hearing her talk to mom about it…a lot of the stuff that happened between you guys…It's hard for her to let go of because she blames herself."

Faith tried not to laugh because Dawn's expression was so serious, her voice so earnest. "C'mon! You sure there just wasn't a mix up at the memory factory? B blames herself for a lotta stuff that's not her fault. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if she felt responsible for the hole in the ozone layer…but me? That's the one thing that's all my fault and we both know it."

"I don't think so, Faith."

"That's because you've been spared most of the details. You'd probably hate my guts too, if you'd known what I've done."

Dawn shook her head vehemently and slammed her fist down on the railing. "That stuff doesn't matter anymore! Faith, no matter what anyone says, you're not bad! You could've killed me, if you wanted to! Or mom even!"

"Shit, Dawn, don't say that."

"Well you could've! But you didn't! You wouldn't do that to me and you wouldn't do that to Buffy!"

"Whoa, whoa, calm down…" Faith slid off the railing and dropped the unlit cigarette onto the porch before gathering the girl in her arms.

"I just don't get why you guys fight so much! You're basically Buffy if she was cooler and taller!"

Faith laughed as Dawn buried her head into her shoulder. "You know what they say, Pint Size; fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly."

"Yeah." She replied, frustrated tears forming at the corners of her eyes. "She's just so stupid! You're trying and she's not trying at all!"

"Hey, we used to be in opposite roles, you know? She tried and I couldn't be bothered. You can't blame B for not wanting to join my fan club."

"Me an Tara are in your fan club." Dawn sniffed.

Faith smiled. "Yeah, thanks for that."

"It's not the same though, is it?" the girl asked, pulling back to look at the Slayer.

Faith contemplated the question for a moment. Regardless of whether she was five or sixteen, the youngest Summers was wise beyond her years. "No." She said finally, her own voice sounding tired. "It's not the same." Truthfully, she was beyond tired of fighting with Buffy but neither of them did anything half-assed. When they got along, they got along famously and when they fought…well, that was the situation she was in now. She would give anything to change that. She sighed wistfully and looked down to find Dawn staring at her with a peculiar expression, her eyes wide. "What?"

"Nothing!" the shorter brunette reassured quickly. Her frustrated expression disappeared and in its place was a wide grin. "Nothing at all!"

"You feelin' okay?"

Dawn hugged Faith tightly enough to make the woman glad for Slayer strength. "Yes! Fantastic even! I totally get it!"

"Get what? Are we singin the same song here, Pint Size? You've lost me."

The petite brunette unlatched herself and waved her hands in the air excitedly. "Nevermind!"

"You sure you're okay?"

"Five by five!"

The Slayer chuckled and shook her head, shooing Dawn back into the house. "Don't tell B I'm rubbing off on you, she'll go nuts. C'mon, finish your homework so we can get outta here, I'm starving."


	8. Chapter 8

Tara was sitting on the swinging bench on the side of their temporary home, idly rocking herself gently with one foot and staring at the starry heavens. The air was cool and she wrapped herself in the fluffy blanket she had picked up in her quiet trek through the house. On all sides of her, houses were dark and silent save for the occasional barking dog. The moonless sky still held the deep colors of night, but she swore she could smell the dawn approaching.

The blonde sighed halfheartedly and wished she could just go to sleep. Sometimes, she would have nights where she could just not fall asleep. Increasingly, she had been waking up in the middle of the night, her heart pounding painfully in her chest as she struggled not to empty the contents of her stomach at the memories she held of her other life.

Tara knew that the Fates had said it was necessary for her to seek evil out in order to balance her soul with Willow's. She knew that Willow had gone through the same feelings of power, the same guilt wracked conscious. She had no clue, however, as to how or even if she could talk to her girlfriend about them. She could see with frightening clarity the battle that Willow had gone through every second she had to say 'no' to the power.

The blonde witch felt guilty. She should not have left. Even in the altered timeline, she had left and in her mind, that made it twice that she had abandoned the hacker. The Fate's had not changed much; Amy had never de-ratted and Buffy and Xander had stopped Warren before he could pull out a weapon. As far as she knew, Amy was enjoying her new life as a lab rat for University of Sunnydale's science department, and Warren was not up for parole for another six years and yet she had still left.

Willow had rationally explained that even though things were different, they were still essentially the same. If Amy had been allowed to return to her human form, the car accident and the rift with Buffy would add to the issues they had been trying to deal with for the last six months. The Summer's sisters had barely spoken to the redhead the whole time she had been back from England and that had a lot to do with the car accident, with the disappointment and sadness she had brought down on them. It only made sense to omit those events as well.

Still, those thoughts did nothing to lessen Tara's guilt. She wanted to suffer though the worst of it alone, like Willow had. The sudden sound of crunching gravel caused the blonde witch to startle. Clutching the maroon blanket in one hand, she raised her other hand in preparation for a spell.

"Hey." Buffy said nonchalantly when she appeared, pebbles grinding under her shoes as she shuffled the path to the bench. "Giles sent me out on patrol. Can you believe that? It's like finally being old enough to sit at the grown-up table only to be reminded that you're still the kid…" She kicked at the ground and a spray of pebbles scattered into the grass. "Didn't mean to scare you." The Slayer smiled sheepishly.

Tara put her hand down, staring at it for a moment. That never used to be her automatic reaction, not unless she had been in danger. She shook her head, allowing her hair to fall into her face as she turned away. "I-it's okay."

The smaller blonde frowned and flopped down unceremoniously onto the bare wood bench, causing its metronome like squeak to hiccup as the chains jostled around. She spread part of the blanket across the top of her legs when Tara handed her half, and toed the ground lightly until they were back to the gentle creak-squeak-creak-squeak of the swinging bench. "What's wrong?"

Tara gave her a sad lopsided smile, but did not turn to face her. She appreciated Buffy's friendship, more now than ever. "I-it's still hard, you know?" she started, looking briefly at the Slayer. "Sometimes…" she sucked in a sharp breath, her voice soft. "Sometimes I'm…I'm just not sure if I'm that one o-or this one."

Buffy nodded empathetically, it was a conversation they had had before. By all accounts, Tara had readjusted to everything quite nicely, but after a few weeks of being back, the blonde Slayer would often come home from patrol to find the witch awake with a morose look on her face. At first, they just kept each other company. Tara had not wanted to be alone, but did not have the heart to wake Willow and Buffy was grateful for seeing a friendly face after a night of killing the things that go bump in the night. Eventually, the petite blonde learned of the nightmares that kept the witch awake, about how difficult it was for her to contend with two lifetimes of memories and how difficult it was for her to talk about them to anyone. Especially Willow..

"Nightmares getting worse?" Buffy asked, once it was clear that Tara was not going to say anything else.

The witch shook her head. "The memories are worse than the nightmares. I-I've done such horrible things to people, Buffy. I don't know how Willow did it…how she could forgive herself."

"She didn't." the Slayer replied, throwing her arm around Tara and giving her a sideways hug. "Will lived with it, sure…but she never forgave herself. She couldn't without you. Have you talked to her about it at all?"

"A-a little. Only, really, what I've already told you. I…I just can't tell her everything. How could I? I-I _fed_ off people." She covered her mouth with one hand and for a moment, Buffy was worried she might throw up, but she just let out a shaky breath and continued. "I remember being so…so…f-frustrated that the darkness wouldn't take me; that it wouldn't, um, stay in me." She shivered. "How could I talk to her about that? How could she forgive me for wanting that?"

"The same way you forgave her. Willow went through the same things…twice, if you wanna get technical about it. She loves you, Tara…I mean jeeze, you guys got a grade A mystical destiny because you love each other so damn much. You can't honestly believe that she'd think any less of you."

Tara shrugged, her eyes downcast. Honestly, she could.

"You know what I think?"

The tall blonde looked up briefly. "That I'm being stupid?"

The Slayer smiled genially. "I was gonna say 'silly,' but more or less. I can't pretend to know what you're going through, and you know I'm always here for you, but Will doesn't have to pretend. She'll know what you're going through because she's been there. Let her help you."

"But what if I am that other person, Buffy? Wh-what if that's really me? Wh-what if I hurt Willow?"

Buffy squeezed the other blonde's shoulders once more. "You know and I know that you'd never hurt Willow. Even the quote unquote other you would never hurt her."

"Quote unquote?"

"They're both you, Tare. That you and this you. Even though you may have wanted it, you weren't evil. When Willow went all Siouxsie and the Banshees an wanted to unmake everything, she wasn't really evil then either. She just wanted the pain to go away. The way you were in that other Sunnydale doesn't matter. Even if you were evil, both of you have a clean slate now. All that matters now is who you are from this point on. Just the fact that you're agonizing over this should tell you which one you are in your heart."

Tara sniffed hard and nodded. "You know…th-that actually kinda made a lot sense."

"Yeah, don't get used to it."

The witch chuckled for a moment, drying her damp eyes with the side of one hand. Letting out a rush of air, she sniffed again and pushed her hair back, desperate for a topic change. She knew Buffy would not push her about it and for that, she was thankful. "What about you?"

"What about me what?"

"Are you, um, doing okay? Y-you seemed pretty upset when you got off the phone with Dawn earlier."

Buffy waved her hand in the air flippantly. "Yeah. Just worried that my little sister is going to get recruited into the punk rock army or Faith is going to have her wearing pleather while we're gone or something."

"You don't trust Faith?"

"Hell no." the Slayer shot out almost before Tara had finished her sentence. "Well," she amended reluctantly. "I do with Dawn. Even if most of my memories with her in them are implanted, Faith's never done anything to my sister. I don't trust Miss five by five with anything else except Dawn. I know she'll keep her safe…"

"But?"

"I dunno. I'm worried she's gonna turn her against me or something. Dawn already thinks the sun shines outta Faith's ass and sets on her command. Stupid monks didn't have to get so vivid with my sister's hero worship. She's supposed to be my sister! You would think that they had something against me."

Tara smiled gently and nudged Buffy with her shoulder. "D-do you think they may have done that for a reason?"

"There is no reason for making a child infatuated with a gold medalist crazy."

"She's not crazy."

Buffy looked at her skeptically. "Yeah, I guess psychotic is a better word."

"Weren't you the one telling me a-about how different situations can make people different? I-it's, um, what she chooses to embrace that matters, right? Which one is in her heart." Tara smiled at the indignant glare shot her way.

"You can't just throw people's words back at them like that! It's…it's unpatriotic!" She folded her arms across her chest. "Besides, who knows if she even has a heart to put something in anyways?"

"Why can't you give her a chance?"

Buffy scowled. "I've been down that road. A few times. How many chances am I supposed to give her?"

Tara shrugged. "As many as it takes."

"And who made you president of the Faith Appreciation Society?"

"Dawn's the president. I'm just the treasurer." She chuckled. "Y-you know what I think?"

"That I'm being silly." Buffy replied flatly.

"I was going to say 'stupid,' but m-more or less." She grinned as the Slayer feigned her offense. "I think she scares you."

The petite blonde's loud laughter burst through the lightening sky as she threw her head back. "Okay, okay…" she sputtered, her laughter dying down. "This I gotta hear. Granted, she's done some pretty scary things, but why would I be afraid of her? I've beat her before and I could do it again."

"I think," Tara started slowly, making sure that Buffy would hear every word. "that you're afraid of her because Faith _is_ you, in a way. She didn't have a-a Xander or a Willow o-or a Giles. Without them, w-wouldn't you be Faith? I think that scares you. She looks up to you, Buffy…I-I barely even know her and I can tell." Tara stood up carefully and draped the blanket around Buffy's shoulders, clasping them briefly. "I-I don't think she can forgive herself without you…the same way Willow couldn't without me. I think you should help her…and you should let her help you. I-I think it would be good for both of you." She went back into the house, leaving the Slayer with a frown on her face, scrutinizing the horizon where the sun would appear.

*

"I don't see why this is necessary." Warren protested as he was prodded gently forward. On their arrival to what Callia had called a 'safe-house,' he had been promptly blindfolded and led to yet another car. An hour later, he was stumbling through an unknowable landscape, guided by a pair of large hands that were quick to catch him if he stumbled. It was embarrassing.

"It's tradition, Mr. Mears." Callia informed him. He could hear the smile in her voice and it made him want to spit, but he kept still as they came to a stop.

"Mistress Callia." A male voice said in front of him. "Is this the one?"

He could feel a finger being pointed at him.

"Yes. Where's Kestrel?"

Next to him, sudden rush of air and a loud thump that echoed the sounds of leaves and overturned dirt caused Warren to jump, hiccupping slightly as his heart returned to a normal speed. A thoroughly amused female voice that was not Callia's giggled ecstatically. .

"Kestrels," The new female voice said, her voice sounding distracted and holding a slightly musical accent that was unknown to him. "must sometimes watch rabbits from the trees else they scurry back to their warren."

He felt the closeness of body heat and cold breath on his ear. He sensed her move, but could not hear anything. The thought made him nervous.

"I'm a bird of prey." Kestrel said lowly. "We must eat the weak to survive."

"Kestrel, put that away." Callia's voice commanded lightly. Warren had no clue what she was talking about until he heard the distinct noise of a blade sliding into a holster. He swallowed hard.

"I was only teasing." The other Kindred replied, her voice louder though she still sounded preoccupied. He wondered if it was a crazy-person thing. A sharp jab to his side put an end to his train of thought. "I wouldn't eat it, Callie." She sounded disgusted. "It's too cold, too dark. It isn't a stew rabbit. It probably tastes like gunpowder."

Warren frowned, realizing with sudden clarity that he was quite ill prepared for the likes of Kestrel. "Hey," he said finally, trying not to let his voice show his annoyance or his misgivings. "_It_ would like to see now."

He heard someone, Callia he assumed, snap their fingers and he sensed more movement before his blindfold was untied. Having had his eyes effectively out of commission for the last hour and a half, the light the stars were giving off caused him to blink as if they were harsh fluorescent lights. The brunet rubbed the spots out of his eyes and glanced around himself, expecting something grand, only to find that they were in a glen in the middle of the woods. Callia was standing off to his right with the six men who had come over on the jet with them. On his left was a group of three women and two men. The man who had spoken earlier was standing in front of them, an enormous man who looked as if he would be more at home on a Viking ship in a horned helmet.

Directly in front of him, was a girl whose age he would have placed at seventeen or eighteen. She had a fine, fairy like appearance, tall and slender. Her wide eyes were so unnaturally light blue that they seemed to be a sort of milky silver. Her skin was the same caramel color as Callia's and her shoulder length white hair was wild around her face, as if it had been cut by a madman with a razor. He was not sure what he was quite expecting, but save for her hair and eyes, Kestrel looked like a normal teenager. He at least thought that she would be glowing or something.

Callia nudged him slightly and when he looked at her in irritation, she bowed her head and raised her eyes at him in expectation. Frowning, he bowed his head to Kestrel and the girl crossed her arms, a bright smile on her face.

"No, you're not a stew rabbit, Rabbit. You're a rabid gunpowder rabbit." She said, clapping Warren on the back once and un-holstering the ornate black dagger strapped to her thigh on the outside of her jeans. "You can try to hop away if you like, but all rabbits get skinned eventually." She leapt from side to side. "You should know, Rabbit, that I don't hop and I don't always walk. The world stops spinning if you don't dance on it." She raised her arms and twirled further into the clearing, spinning the dagger around with rhythmic and potentially deadly motions. It was then that he noticed she was barefoot.

"You weren't kidding about her." He whispered to Callia from the side of his mouth.

The raven-haired woman nodded gravely. "I never kid about her." She returned before calling Kestrel's name, causing the girl to cease her dancing. "Have you made the preparations?"

The demigod nodded enthusiastically. "Yes!" she pointed the tip of her dagger at the large man from her group who took a step backwards. "Sheridan helped us make the way." She frowned slightly and waved her blade at Warren. "Must we take the little Rabbit?"

"My name is Warren." The brunette interrupted hotly.

Kestrel cocked her head to one side and regarded him thoughtfully. "Who said it wasn't?"

He sighed disgustedly. "Never mind."

"Mother, Rabbit isn't very bright, is he?"

Callia stifled a chuckle but did not answer her question. "Let's go then, it's not much further."

"So what do we do once we're there?" Warren asked, trying to spot some kind of building or temple in the distance.

"Only Callie and I can open the old place. I like to finger paint, so I get to open the door." Kestrel announced proudly as their companions took the lead. Warren noticed that the girl stayed close to his host, her gaze darting to Callia's face as if looking for approval.

"Great." He only just managed not to sound sarcastic.

"Callie," the white-haired Kindred said in a stage whisper. "Rabbit doesn't like me very much and I don't think I like it either. What if I don't approve?"

"It's too late, duckie." Callia said gently, stepping over a fallen log as they stopped in front of a large lichen covered boulder on what looked like the edge of a rocky field. "We've made a deal."

"No," she corrected, pouting. "_You_ made a deal. I don't like it. It smells like Brutus." She drew her dagger and made a stabbing motion towards the hazel-eyed Kindred to illustrate her point. "Et tu, Lepe?"

"Try to understand, love." She countered, seemingly unbothered by the dangerous gestures. "Warren and I have an arrangement. The deal has already been made. We need him to help awaken Kadross."

Kestrel dropped her arms to her sides heavily. "Yes, father needs us." She squinted at Warren long enough to make him feel uncomfortable, but he would not give her the satisfaction of seeing him squirm. The demigod moved so suddenly and so quickly that he gasped slightly when her face was inches from his own, the dull side of her dagger digging into his cheek. "Et tu, Lepe?"

He risked a sidelong glance at Callia who merely shrugged and shook her head. "I'm here to get my revenge. I'm here to get what's owed to me." He replied honestly, holding her stare.

Her gaze bored into him for a few moments longer before the intensity of her expression broke and she gave him a wide smile. "Then so fall the Guardians!" She quickly took the blade from his face and dug the tip into her palm with a triumphant grunt, dragging it in haphazard swirls until blood started to pool in her cupped hand.

Warren watched in fascination as she carelessly tossed her weapon to the ground where Sheridan immediately picked it up and wiped the blade clean on his own shirt. Kestrel dipped the fingers of her uninjured hand into her blood and started for Warren, her bloodied fingers wiggling towards him. Instinctively, the brunet made a face and took a large step back, causing his would be 'attacker' to regard him exasperatedly.

"You can't come to the party if you haven't got an invitation. The man at the door doesn't like party-crashers, Rabbit." She supplied as if that would explain everything.

"You aren't one of us yet." Callia intervened, nudging him forward. "Where we're going still has a lot of residual power. Once the Guardians moved the temple, we dropped what was left of the land it sat upon underground and locked the location. Kestrel and I are the only ones who can enter and leave unharmed. The counter-spell must be written in either her blood, or mine. Otherwise, you'll suffer."

"Painful death, huh?" he asked, the worried faces on their small congregation making him feel no better about the situation.

"If you die, you would consider yourself lucky."

Kestrel nodded firmly and held up her bloodied fingers again. "Callie's really very good at that sort of thing. You want to RSVP now? It's supposed to be your party, after all."

Pushing the squeamish feeling back down his gullet, Warren nodded. "Sure, what the hell?" he muttered, resisting the urge to close his eyes as the Kindred made ran her bloodied fingers around in some manner of pattern on his forehead. Her blood, like her breath, was cool to the touch and he was surprised at the sweet smell it gave off. The silver-eyed girl's tongue was lodged firmly in her cheek as she concentrated. He coughed slightly to cover the chuckle trapped in his chest; he imagined Michelangelo had that very same expression when painting the Sistine Chapel.

As he watched her move to the others who had come with them, a warm drunk feeling spread through him. He felt different, powerful. Looking around, he noticed an entryway outlined in blue light set into the large boulder.

"Can you see it?" Callia asked him, gesturing towards the door.

Warren nodded.

"Good. You're ready then. Let's go."

Kestrel, half of whose face held her bloodied handprint like war paint, marched in front of them, singing a song about going down a rabbit hole.

**AN:** as a point of interest/fact and because it may not be common knowledge, "Et tu Brute? So fall Caesar." Was what Kestrel was (mis)quoting. "Lapus" (vocative, Lape) is Latin for "rabbit" and a warren is a rabbit tunnel. It's not often I get to flex my mad useless knowledge skills. Also, thank you metric-tonnes for the reviews. They really do encourage me to update =)


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: **Thanks again to D'Lark, who is quickly becoming one of my favorite reviewers and to everyone who's left a comment so far. If I could email chocolate chip cookies, I would =)

*

Once everyone had passed through the glowing doorway, the shimmering outline of a rectangle disappeared with a loud sucking noise, leaving only the rough surface of a boulder in its place. Warren found that he could see fairly well, as if a dim sun lit the cavernous space he now found himself in. They shuffled carefully through the narrow corridor, which was just wide enough for them to walk two by two. The dirt path led them downwards, into the cold recesses of the earth, though he barely felt the damp chill on his skin.

The magical light source, which he was attributing to Kestrel's blood, only lit the path a few feet ahead of him; everything beyond that was pitch black. He felt more than saw creatures moving around in the darkness beyond his vision, waiting for him to stray away from his companions. At first, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him, but Sheridan, the broad shouldered Viking-type next to him, had flinched several times at the darkness beyond, causing him to keep close to the large man.

The procession was silent save for Kestrel's occasional chatter echoing around them. He could not see her as she had skipped ahead of the group, but he could hear her conversing with whatever lived in the depths of the earth. The answering hisses and growls only served to prove his theory that they were not alone in the depths.

Warren glanced around at the cadre of Kindred that accompanied him. Every single one of them looked no different than someone he would see on the street, but every one of them were at the very least, six-hundred years older than him. He admitted to himself that he was a bit disappointed at their manner of dress. He was almost used to Callia's perpetual business suits, she dressed like a lawyer and even now, he had no idea how she did not stumble through the tunnel in her platforms; but expected from the others, some manner of ceremonial garb. At the very least, some impressive looking ritual equipment, but everyone was dressed casually, as he was.

Part of him wanted to say something toward that end. After all, wasn't he the one who had been sought out, singled out among many for his knowledge and prowess? Surely that meant he warranted some kind of special treatment. The only thing that kept his mouth closed was Callia's warning that she could not always control Kestrel. The demigod did not seem so tough, she looked like a skinny kid, but he had not missed the way Sheridan backed away from her and he had a good foot and a half and at worst, fifty pounds of well developed muscle on her.

"_Stay cool."_ He told himself mentally. _"We'll do this initiation crap and then I'll have the power to crush Buffy and the Rescue Rangers." _The thought made him smile widely. They needed him. Even Callia and her schizophrenic child minded companion could not take the Slayer down. Not without his help. He figured that his work would be worth a lot more than just becoming a full-fledged member of their secret society, but for now, he was willing to put that matter aside.

Warren already knew how it would happen. He would start out by breaking as many bones in the small blonde's body as he could. Just enough to leave her conscious, but more than enough to render her immobile. Then, he would kill every single one of her stupid cohorts and make her watch. The more she cried, the slower he would kill them. He supposed that he would have to start with whoever these Guardian characters were, but that should pose no problem, even if Callia seemed apprehensive about them. Buffy would pay for what she had done to him, and he would make anyone she loved pay too.

The brunet pulled himself out of his reverie when the tunnel opened up into a cavernous clearing. He could sense that there were sides and a ceiling to the underground den, but he could not see them and he did not want to attempt to search for them as he was convinced of the creatures lurking just beyond his vision. There were several massive stones scattered about the clearing as if they had once been part of a foundation. The reddish sandstone looking blocks were as high as his waist and on touching one, he found them to be warm to the touch, almost as if it was alive. In the center of the dirt packed clearing was a low platform made of black marble with gold runic symbols he had never seen before. Upon closer inspection, the white swirls throughout the marble betrayed the rusty brown stains of a substance he felt confident in guessing was blood.

"Kestrel, light the fires." Callia said softly, her face turned towards a spot in the dark.

The silver-eyed Kindred bounded silently from the shadows, causing Warren and several others to jump back slightly as she leapt onto the platform with unnecessary flourish, her arms held straight up over her head. Her exuberant expression suddenly became serious and she closed her eyes for a moment. Clapping her palms together loudly, she brought her pressed hands down to the level of her chest.

"Anrhega chynewa!" Kestrel shouted solemnly, her tone holding a note of focus that Warren had thought was impossible for her.

A loud noise drew the brunet's gaze away from the platform and towards his left, where he was sure he had heard the overly loud hiss of a flare being struck. A bright grey flame had appeared in a deep bowl set onto a low pedestal he had not noticed before. A few white sparks popped away from their parent flame and jettisoned about the room, hopping from place to place until there were eleven arsenic colored flames held in the black marble basins placed in a circle around the main platform.

Despite the bright edges of the flames, they barely gave off any light and Warren had the sinking suspicion that their purpose was not to illuminate. Kestrel opened her eyes and stepped off the platform, scurrying behind him to push him forward.

"You've got to lay down now, Rabbit." She said from behind him, turning him around and shoving him gently so that he sat down hard on the platform.

An intense feeling of cold rose up from the dark marble and seeped through the relatively thick material of his jeans. The brunet glanced warily at Kestrel who made a shooing motion with her hands as if that would get him to lie down faster. Shivering slightly and keeping himself calm so as not to look weak in front of the others, Warren turned himself sideways and eased backwards until he was laying on the platform, gritting his teeth to keep them from chattering.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Callia moved towards his right side while Kestrel stayed on his left. The other Kindred took up positions around the platform, each of them standing in front of one of the grey flames where they closed their eyes and stretched their arms out towards the center of the cavern. The Kindred around him began to chant in a language he did not recognize, their voices low. The biting cold had begun to sting his skin, but instead of squirming, he simply grimaced and clenched his teeth together even harder.

Above him, Kestrel had pulled out her knife again and pointed it at his chest, a disturbing gleam in his eye. Warren made a movement in attempt to protest the derange Kindred's actions and found that he was not only incapable of moving, but that he had been robbed of speech as well. Panicking, he darted his gaze over to Callia who covered Kestrel's hand in her own. Warren hardly had time to feel relief when the duo plunged the knife into his chest, wrenching a sickening sucking of air from his previously silent throat.

Cold spread throughout his body, burning each one of his nerve endings. White-hot pain caused him to hiccup and convulse wildly on the marble platform as the Kindred around them continued chanting. He could feel his blood rushing out of him like a river, he could taste it in the back of his throat, and even that was cold. Warren's head swam in an attempt to sit up, but with Callia and Kestrel's hands still on the hilt of the dagger, he was rooted to the marble.

The eldest Kindred looked down at him placidly and started reciting either a spell or a poem, Warren could not tell which as her voice sounded far away. The flames around them grew in their intensity until they lit up the entire area, bathing them in a light that rivaled the brightness of a flood lamp. The brunet's head felt fuzzy though he had enough presence of mind to wonder why he had not died yet. When he was sure that most of his blood had deserted him and he was surely going to die, the duo above him removed their hands from the dagger. Callia hovered her downward turned palm inches over the hilt, her body suddenly went rigid and her expression vacant, her moving lips mumbling something over and over again.

Kestrel dropped down to level her head with his and it took all of his strength just to turn his gaze toward her face. Her head cocked to one side, the bloody handprint had dried on her skin, making her look like an Amazonian warrior. She looked at him with an expression that hovered on boredom, scooping some of the blood off his chest with her hands and stood up, carefully clutching her cupped hands to her chest. Warren could not remember ever feeling so cold or so much pain in his life and he was beginning to wish he would just die already. Suddenly, all the chanting in the room stopped. Even Callia's mouth was still.

"Are you ready to blow out the candles?" The silver-eyed Kindred asked, her voice loud above the hum left in the wake of sudden silence.

Without waiting for, or expecting, an answer, Kestrel tipped her head back and drank the contents of her palm, rivulets of blood pouring out between her fingers and racing down her chin. The cold feeling in his chest reached its apex and searing pain exploded within him. His muscles involuntarily arched his back in agony and he tried to scream, but with his throat frozen solid, only a frigid rush of air left his mouth. One by one, the grey flames around the cavern shuddered out of existence until they were left in the dark.

Warren's body seized wildly as the fire spewed out of Callia's palm and raced down the hilt of the dagger like a conduit. Heat spread throughout his body and instead of relieved, he felt more pain. Seemingly coming out of her trance, the raven haired Kindred plucked the dagger from his chest and he began to cough and hack, dry heaving over the side of the platform as he felt blood return to his veins. A few minutes later, his coughing subsided and he managed to pull himself into a sitting position. He looked down at himself, expecting his clothes to be matted with blood, but there was none. Not even a hole in his shirt from the dagger which Callia still held.

Kestrel procured a small vial from her pocket and spit a mouthful of his blood carefully into the glass. She wiped her arm across her mouth, her face screwed into a mask of displeasure.

In the dim light that the demigod's blood on his forehead provided him, he waited for whatever was going to come next. For all he knew, the crazy girl-child just wanted to carry around some of his blood.

"Where do you want to be tagged, Rabbit?" Kestrel asked him excitedly as she handed the vial to Callia who sighed softly onto the blade of the dagger, causing it to become engulfed in a dull blue light.

Warren attempted to ask what she meant, but he was still weak and only managed to let out a ragged breath before he started another coughing fit that made his eyes water. He shrugged in reply to her question. She shrugged back at him and pulled off his jacket, tossing it to the side before lifting up the hem of his t-shirt, her bloodied hands staining the fabric.

"Here, I think." She said to Callia, tapping the skin on his bare shoulder blade.

Callia nodded in response and tipped the contents of the vial over the blade where it appeared to evaporate before turning the soft blue light into a mottled green-black. With every careful slice into his skin, Warren felt the twinge of something he had wanted his whole life. Power.

*

Willow wandered through the expansive cellar library of Alan's house, delighting in the types of volumes only a friend of Giles' would have crammed onto their shelves. The Welshman reminded her of an older, fatter version of Wesley Wyndham-Price. He had a fair amount of research of the Guardians of old, but when confronted with them face-to-face, the redhead was surprised he had not dove for cover under a bed. Smirking, she supposed that he was doing just that by spending most of the day at his office in town doing research.

Alan had advised that she and Tara not leave the house for safety reasons, and much to her chagrin, Giles and Buffy had staunchly agreed. She could see the logic in it, who knew how many Kindred were out here and as long as they were not spotted, they would retain the element of surprise.

Willow rolled her green eyes heavenward and shook her head. _"Surprise."_ She thought, flopping into a velveteen armchair and leaning on her elbows. _"Right! We don't even know where to begin, or what the Kindred are even doing here!"_ she sighed and cast her gaze at the hardwood floor beneath her feet. _"I can't even help Buffy go out and look for them." _Truthfully, she was bored. Even she had a limit for ancient texts and research and she had met that limit surprisingly quickly.

Buffy had gone out with Alan to follow a lead they had discovered their first night in Holyhead and Giles had gone into town to pick up more books, which had left Willow and Tara alone. More approximately, it had left Willow alone as Tara had been asleep most of the day. She frowned slightly and shifted the weight of her head into one hand. She knew that Tara slept fitfully and spent most of her nights haunting the hallways like a ghost, but she did not know what she could do to help. She was a little wounded that the blonde witch never woke her up when she was up in the middle of the night, but she figured that Tara needed alone time.

She wanted to help Tara, she truly did, but her girlfriend made the task nearly impossible. Any time Willow would broach the subject of how Tara was coping with everything; the blonde would change the subject or clam up. The hacker had the sinking suspicion that the blonde was beginning to resent her, no matter what she said to the contrary. She pinched the bridge of her nose with one hand and leaned back in her chair.

Everything had seemed so simple when they had first gotten back from that other Sunnydale. Willow had even managed to convince her nerves that it was a good time to bring up the subject of moving out of the Summer's residence and maybe even work up enough of her nerve to talk about marriage, but it was pointless now. Part of her felt like the other shoe was going to drop at any moment, that Tara would just wake up one day and take to heart all of the truly awful things she had done to her. She had erased her memory, violated her trust and effectively cast the only person she loved more than life itself into a hell dimension where she was forced to forget herself.

Willow could not help but feel responsible. It was all her fault, after all. If she had not gone out of control with magic in the first place, none of that would have happened. Sometimes she wondered if the Fates had done the right thing. People were not supposed to betray the ones they loved. Tara was worthy of the title of Guardian, of that she had no doubt, but was she? The redhead looked up as Giles entered her field of vision, a book in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. She smiled slightly as he moved to a stately desk cluttered with papers and books, seemingly oblivious to her presence.

Giles had not taken the explanation of their latest adventure very well, though he had been pleased that everyone had come out unscathed, more or less. Rupert Giles was not a tactile man, but he had proved his relief by hugging each of them tightly, though Willow knew the spark of disappointment on his face was directed at her.

"Willow." The Englishman said suddenly as he looked up from his book. He smiled slightly and adjusted his glasses. "Didn't see you there. Would you care for some tea?"

"Whatcha reading?" she asked, shaking her head and eyeing the book he had set down in front of him.

"Oh, ah, it's an epic poem written by a demon bard." He chuckled slightly as if he had been caught reading something foolish. "It's a lot of rubbish, really, but there was mention of Kadross and I was hoping I could find out what ends he was working towards before he was sealed."

"Would it be too much to hope that it was sunshine and little kittens?" she asked wearily.

"I'm afraid so." He replied, smiling slightly over his teacup as he took a sip. "How are you holding up?"

"Alright." She lied. "I wish I could be more useful…I just don't know what to do besides research."

"Well, I don't believe there's much for you to do besides research. Alan phoned a few hours ago and said that he may have found something that would be useful, but it'll have to wait until he gets back with Buffy."

The redhead nodded and they lapsed into silence as Giles turned his attention back to his book, his brow crinkled slightly. Willow allowed the silence to linger for several minutes until she cleared her throat, causing the former Watcher to look up from the page he was on.

"Giles," she started, fidgeting with her fingers. "I…I never got the chance to say that I'm…"

"Don't apologize, Willow." He interrupted, briefly running a hand through his brown hair, which was graying, at his temples. He smiled gently at her questioning expression. "From everything that's been told to me, and from the chat that I had with Buffy and Tara, I gather that you've apologized to me enough, even if I can't remember it…or it technically hadn't happened. I'm sorry that I wasn't more clear in my efforts to keep you away from the black arts. Perhaps if I had shared some of my own experiences more readily, it would not have seemed so attractive..." He took off his glasses and produced a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his vest.

Willow was upon him before he had even begun to thoroughly wipe one lens. The small redhead threw her arms around Giles' neck and hugged him for all she was worth. He stiffened in surprise at first, but she felt his shoulders relax as he patted her forearm.

"Giles," she started, loosening but not relinquishing her hold on the older man. "It's because of you and Xander that the world didn't go all kerplewy and it's because of you that I could start to heal after….after all that. If there's anyone here that doesn't need to apologize for anything, it's you. If you won't let me say I'm sorry, at least let me say thank you." She placed a gentle kiss on his temple and pulled away from him. "Thanks."

The former librarian smiled and turned away to clear his throat, but Willow could see that he was brushing away tears. He gave his glasses a proper cleaning before replacing them on the bridge of his nose and returning his hankie to his pocket. "Yes, well, that's what I'm here for." He mumbled, trying to sound official.

The hacker beamed at him admiringly. He was like a father to her, to all the Scoobies really, and everything he had done for any of them had always been above and beyond the call of duty for a Watcher. Even though he would probably never admit it out loud, she knew that Giles realized that he was the de facto father figure for not just herself and the remaining Summers, but for Xander, Tara and even Anya. He had even tried to help Faith, after everything she had done which only proved how large his heart was. Willow frowned as her thoughts settled on the brunette Slayer.

"What's the matter?" he asked, his face etched with concern.

The hacker smiled slightly and shook her head. "I was just thinking about how you've always been there to help us. All of us. You even tried to stop the Watcher's Council from taking Faith away."

Giles laughed softly. "Yes, a lot of good that did. You're worried for Faith?"

Willow shrugged. "More _about_ her really…Tara thinks we should give her a chance."

"I agree." He replied, nodding his head firmly and surprising Willow. He held up his hand just as she opened her mouth. "I know she's done a lot of…unsavory things, shall we say, but everyone deserves to right the wrongs they've made. Or at least to have the chance to, don't you agree?" He looked at her pointedly and the hacker could feel herself growing smaller under his gaze through his expression was soft.

"You know, I always hate it when you say something sensible."

He shrugged slightly, mirth in his eyes. "Well, one of the best things about being stuffy and English is that I'm automatically quite sensible."

Willow grinned and tried her best not to stick her tongue out at the man in front of her. "Did Alan say anything about what he found?" she asked, changing the subject.

Giles shook his head. "No, he was fairly tight lipped about it, but he should be along soon. We'll figure this out, Willow, don't worry."

She smiled at him again and nodded her head, believing him. "I'm gonna go wake up Tara before she sleeps through the apocalypse." She gave him a little wave and started to leave the library, pausing just before she was out of his sight. "Giles?" she said quietly, turning to face him.

"Hmm?" he was already engrossed in the book again.

"Thank you. For everything."

He looked up, nodding slightly and Willow left him to clean his glasses and pretend that his eyes were not watering. She trudged up the wooden stairs to the ground floor and made her way past the living room, ignoring the polished mahogany stairwell that led to the top floor in favor of a narrow hallway lined with old scenic paintings towards the rear of the house where the guest bedroom she shared with Tara was located.

She quietly pushed open the door, which was slightly ajar and nudged it closed behind her, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. It was barely evening outside, but the heavy curtains over the window were drawn, omitting most of the dimming light. Willow shuffled her way through the darkness, carefully avoiding their bags, which she had already stubbed her toes on twice.

By the time she slid onto the empty side of the bed, her eyes had grown accustomed to the dimness. The blonde witch was lying on her side, one arm tucked under her head and her breathing even. Willow sighed gratefully at the peaceful expression on her sleeping lover's face and decided to let her sleep a while longer. The redhead shimmied her way down the bed until her face was parallel with Tara's and she turned on her side as well, resting one hand lightly on her girlfriend's hip.

"I love you." The blonde's sleepy voice cut through the semi-darkness.

Willow smiled and drew herself close enough that their breath mingled together. "I love you too." She whispered, kissing Tara's forehead.

The blonde let out a silent yawn and stretched her arms over her head before blinking several times and wiping a hand over her face. "Did I sleep the whole day away?" she mumbled, laying her head on Willow's shoulder as the redhead turned to lie on her back.

"Mmm, but you needed it." She put her arms around Tara protectively. "Did you get any sleep at all last night?"

"A-a little…"

Willow frowned. "I wish you'd wake me up when you can't sleep. I don't like the idea of snoring away while my girlfriend is all alone."

Tara giggled. "You don't snore, you sleep-babble…anyway, Buffy kept me company when she got back from patrol, so I wasn't all alone the whole time." She nuzzled the redhead's neck and placed a kiss on her pulse point. "Next time."

"Promise?"

She pulled Willow's hand from her side and locked their pinkies together. "Pinky swear."

The hacker twisted her hand so that their fingers entwined and she pulled the other woman towards her, brushing their lips together briefly. "I understand if you want to be alone." She whispered regretfully. "I just mean if you want to have company…or you know..." she sighed. "I just want you to be able to talk to me, if you need to."

Tara frowned slightly and sat up one elbow so she could look the redhead in the eye. "We're talking now, aren't we?"

"I meant…I just…" she turned her head away, looking towards the door of the bedroom. "I want to help. I don't want to lose you again."

The last statement had been so quiet that Tara was unsure if Willow had actually spoken the words aloud. She gently cupped the side of the hacker's face and turned her head so that they were once again facing each other though the younger witch's eyes still stayed downcast. "Willow," she prodded gently, smoothing her hair back. "Look at me."

Willow glanced up, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to push! It's just that I'm so worried about you and I don't want you to shut me out even though I would probably shut me out if I were you, and…"

Tara pressed a finger to Willow's lips, silencing her. "I-I…I didn't mean to worry you." She started, tracing the contours of the redhead's lips for a moment before pulling her hand away and sighing. "A-and I certainly don't want you to think I'm trying to shut you out…I would never. _I'm_ the one that's sorry. I just…I d-don't know how to talk about it. I don't…I don't know how to explain…" she searched for the right words. "Anything. I don't know how to explain anything; or, um, where to start even if I did."

The redhead hugged her tightly, bringing the blonde back down to her shoulder in the process. "You don't need to know how, or have the right words." She replied, wiping her damp eyes briefly. "God knows that if I ever waited around to find the right words, I'd never talk again." They chuckled, still clinging to each other. "I've just…I've been there, Tara. I wish to God that there was some way that I could have gotten you back without…without all that…"

"But if you could, we wouldn't be soul mates." Tara countered.

"It's still not fair." She hugged the blonde tighter. "If I hadn't gone all out of control in the first place, none of this would have ever…" she shook her head. "But I did. You shouldn't have to pay for my mistakes, but you are…in the worst possible way. Let me make it up to you the best way I can, let me help you."

"I finally understand…what you went through, I mean." The blonde replied quietly. "How hard it was for you and I just let you do it alone. Twice." Her voice was thick with the guilt she felt and she buried her head in Willow's shoulder. "I…I abandoned you."

"No you didn't. You came back to me." She smiled. "Twice. You've never abandoned me so you can quit thinking that right now. I'm not gonna let you face this stuff alone, Tara Maclay." She said firmly. "Even if that means I gotta buy stock in NoDoz and just be awake all the time, okay?"

Tara sniffed and felt her lips curve upwards. "Okay…but it would probably be better if I just woke you up."

Willow grinned and kissed the blonde soundly. "That's my girl."

"Yes. Yes I am." She reached for the redhead and brought their lips together again. "We can talk later, right?" She murmured against the skin on Willow's throat as she trailed light kisses down her neck.

The hacker's body tensed slightly and she gripped the blonde's hips tightly as Tara bit down lightly on the side of her throat. "O-o-of course…A-assuming that I, uh…don't forget the, um…" she shivered as hands made their way under her shirt and inched their way up her back to unhook her bra. "The um…what language do I speak?"

The blonde laughed lowly and rolled them over so that Willow was underneath her. "That's up for debate." She replied distractedly, nipping her girlfriend's lower lip gently before reclaiming her lips while deftly undoing the buttons on the redhead's shirt; depositing the barrier onto the floor along with the bra.

The cold air caused Willow to jerk slightly and her hips lifted, eliciting a moan of anticipation from both women. A sudden knock at the door burst into their private world and Tara stilled her hands, frowning.

"What?" Willow called out, her voice perturbed.

Tara bit her lower lip to keep from giggling. "Be nice." She whispered lightly, ghosting her fingers up the sides of the younger witch's ribcage, causing her to squirm.

"Who is it?" she tried instead, forcing an edge of kindness to her words and she grabbed Tara's hands before they could distract her any further.

"Uh…It's just me, guys." Buffy's muffled voice replied from the other side of the door. "Sorry if I'm…uh…interrupting." She cleared her throat. "Alan thinks he's got a plan to at least find where the temple used to be…so if you could…meet us in the living room, I think Giles made crumpets or something English like that." They heard her footsteps start down the hallway before halting and returning to the door. "Sorry again!"

Tara let the laughter come as Buffy's steps died away though Willow looked decidedly un-amused.

"Some timing." The redhead grumbled as the blonde slid off her and retrieved her clothes from the floor, handing them over to her girlfriend. "Isn't she supposed to have impeccable Slayer timing?"

"_Buffy_?"

"Yeah, good point."

Tara smiled and watched Willow pull her shirt back on. "No pouting." She commanded lightly, reaching out to button the shirt just as nimbly as she had taken it off.

"What's in it for me?" the hacker asked crossly. She was certain that Buffy deserved a good glare at least.

The taller witch grinned and leaned over conspiringly, cupping her hand around the side of her mouth and whispering into Willow's ear. As expected, when she pulled back, there was a wide grin on the redhead's face and she merrily pulled them out of the bedroom, ready to hear whatever Alan had to say with a smile on her face.


	10. Chapter 10

"You're sure this is safe?" Giles asked for the fifteenth time as he set his empty cup onto the glossed wood tea table near his left elbow. He glanced nervously at the two witches who were sitting on the couch next to him, trying to read their expressions.

Alan shrugged his meaty shoulders, straining the fabric on his grey suit jacket. "I'm as certain as I can be, given the circumstances. No one has used this spell in…" he trailed off, "Forever, for all intents and purposes."

"Um, s'cuse me?" Buffy cut in from where she sat on the arm of the loveseat Alan occupied. Everyone turned their attention to the small blonde who cleared her throat. "Yeah, hi. Just because I'm the Slayer doesn't mean that I know what you people are talking about." She looked apologetically at Giles. "At the risk of being Buffy Summers: dumb blonde extraordinaire; I have absolutely no idea what's going on."

"Rupert?" Alan sighed, wiping a thick hand over his face. He was trying to like the Slayer, he really was, but after having spent most of the day with the woman, he was ready for a break.

Giles nodded and smiled slightly at his former charge, assuring her that Alan meant no harm in his exasperation. "Yes, well…focusing on the Kindred hasn't led us anywhere, which goes without saying." He glanced sharply at the Slayer whom he had rightly assumed would have something to say about that statement but his gaze softened when she grinned sheepishly. "While you were looking for clues to their whereabouts, Alan discovered the Conflation Ritual in..." He paused for a moment, a look of concern crossing his face. "Where exactly did you find the Conflation Ritual?"

"The Sempiternal Codex."

The ex-Watcher's expression turned to one of excitement. "Yes, of course! I suppose we should have looked their first, but there are so few copies of the codex that it never occurred to me to…"

"Still clueless!" Buffy interrupted impatiently.

Giles cleared his throat to get himself back on track, pulling his glasses off briefly to wipe at them. "Right, sorry. At any rate, the Conflation Ritual is a spell that allows the blending of two souls. The very few times I have ever heard the ritual mentioned, it has ended badly for the two involved." He did not elaborate and Buffy did not ask him to. "The spell involves conjuring Vasseya."

"Giles!" Willow said sharply, her eyes wide. "You didn't say anything about Vasseya!" she exchanged a worried look with Tara. "We don't have to do this."

The ex-librarian held up his hand and shook his head. "I'm not doing this because I have to."

"Wait, whose Vasseya?" Buffy asked.

"She is in the upper echelon of Higher Beings. Vasseya is the fidus Achates to the ultimate source of Light."

Buffy stared at him blankly.

"If life were, um, a c-corporation, Vasseya w-would be the Vice Chairman…person." Tara offered helpfully.

"She's like the good version of Eurynomus." Willow elaborated. "Only, she's older than he is…was, by a couple hundred millennia."

"So I take it she's probably one of those cranky gods?" the Slayer asked.

"By all accounts," Giles answered. "She is quite volatile and doesn't appreciate being called by those she deems unworthy. Normally, I'd never even entertain the idea of doing something so dangerous, but given that Willow and Tara are well...Willow and Tara," the fond smile that ghosted his face for a moment was there and gone so quickly that the gesture had most certainly been subconscious. "I believe it will work. We'll conjure Vasseya through them and I'll act as their voice."

"And this'll accomplish…what?"

"Well, they" he gestured to the witches. "Don't know how to fully tap into the power given to them and honestly, I don't know either, but this is as close as we'll get. Vasseya has the authority to release their power. If we can just use a little of that power, the same energy which moved the Guardian's Temple in the first place, they may be able to trace the residual energy signature back to, at the very least, where the temple used to be, no matter how dulled that signature has become by now."

"And then?"

He shrugged slightly. "And then, I suppose, we look for clues."

Buffy looked back and forth between her former Watcher and her two friends skeptically. "That's not enough."

Giles held up a hand. He knew Buffy well enough to know that the Slayer wanted and needed more information. She would not be comfortable with sending loved ones into the fray blindly. "I know, Buffy…but it's all we have."

"Is it safe?"

"I've already said that there will be risks, but we've got to try." Alan spoke primly, his voice holding the wear he was feeling from the Slayer's presence.

"Giles?" Buffy prodded, ignoring the chubby man next to her.

"Alan's right, Buffy. This goddess is older than written record and even time itself. If we fail…" he looked disgusted briefly. "Let's just say that the descriptions were anything but pleasant. Even if everything goes according to plan, there's no telling how Vasseya will react once on this plane. It's a lot of risk, but it's really up to Willow and Tara."

Three pairs of eyes turned to the witches, waiting. Tara spoke, feeling Willow's decision without having to look at her. "We'll do it."

*

"You're sure this is safe?" Warren asked, frowning in Kestrel's direction. With his initiation complete, he found that his vision had improved somewhat and he could see the demigod drawing pictures in the dirt with a finger almost clearly. He had been right; having the highest tier of Kindred hierarchy had granted him powers beyond that of normal initiates. The thought made him smile inwardly.

"For her or for you?" Callia questioned idly, her voice lowered in an apparent attempt keep Kestrel from listening to them.

The brunet frowned slightly. "Either, really." The genius did not appreciate Callia's treatment of him. He was not her minion and he was already loathing to be perceived as such. He did, however, owe her a great deal. Cad though he was, he did realize this and gritted his teeth to keep himself from saying anything further.

"Kestrel will be fine. She's quicker than she acts and I would never endanger her. She'll be fine."

Warren did not mention that he thought she was trying to convince herself rather than him. "And me?"

The Kindred next to him chuckled softly. "You're worried about the Slayer?"

"Even with your…connections, I doubt you could spring me from prison twice."

"You'd be surprised at what I can do, really. Anyways, you have no reason to fear the Slayer. If it weren't for one of the Guardians, you would have killed her already."

"I didn't even get to point my gun at her." He muttered embarrassedly, watching as a woman from the group that arrived with Sheridan attempt to cajole the demigod into leaving.

"No, not the second time around…but the first time."

"What are you talking about?" Warren briefly wondered if Kestrel's insanity was contagious.

Callia smiled coolly, and set a hand on his shoulder. "Come. It's time I tell you a little story about the Guardians and the Slayer…and how you would have destroyed them all. And then..." She cleared her throat loudly and Kestrel leapt up from her drawings and skipped after them as they made their way back out of the Kindred's hold. "Then, Mr. Mears, I will help you do it right."

*

"How long is this supposed to last?" Willow asked practically as she and Tara sat cross-legged on the floor across from each other, their knees touching.

Alan stood from his bent position and righted the jar of consecrated sea salt he had been shaking out in a circle around the witches. "Well," he began, his tone discomfited. "Seeing as no one has really done this successfully, it's hard to say." He tilted his head upwards, his face flushed with the effort of breathing. "According to calculations, a week at best and few days at worst. The initial rush of power shouldn't tone down for a few hours, but the residual effects, whatever those may be, will last much longer. The spell itself isn't too difficult and can be done relatively easily."

"Without anyone getting hurt." Buffy added loudly from across the room where she was watching the preparations.

"Without anyone getting hurt." The Welshman amended, nodding his head and rolling his eyes at Giles who shrugged and continued shaking the black salt from his jar.

With the work completed, the two witches now sat inside a circle lined with black and white salt. Alan brushed his hands together to clear off any remaining salt while Giles positioned six candles around the circle so that each woman had three candles behind her: one white, one silver and one purple.

As the former Watcher lit the candles, Willow held her hands out in front of her, palms up. She smiled gently at Tara as the blonde placed her downward facing hands on top of hers. Heat from the combination of their energies warmed their hands as the witches locked eyed.

"Ready?" the redhead whispered, resisting the urge to caress the skin on top of hers. Tara nodded almost imperceptibly, but the brief smile she gave was enough of a conformation for Alan who handed Giles a small worn looking book.

"Great Vasseya," he began, his normally soft voice commanding. "Mother of Eternity, I beseech your guidance"

Alan lit a small bowl full of herbs and a thick smoke began to envelop the room.

"Benevolent Vasseya, look upon your daughters with compassion and light."

Willow and Tara shuddered and their eyes slid shut simultaneously.

"What you have deemed to entwine, so now meld. Judge your daughters worthy. As it is within, so shall it be without."

The witches' heads jerked back and a white light emanated from between their hands where it stretched and grew like a silent explosion. The light hit the lines of the circle and did not extend further, the energy swirled around the two women inside, blowing their hair about as if a great wind were swirling around them, but they did not noticed. They barely seemed to be breathing.

"Great Vasseya, Guardian of the Gods, Maker of the Cosmos, I beseech you!"

The light grew in intensity until it reached the point of blinding. It escaped from the circle with a loud rush of air, which blew the room into chaos, extinguishing the candles and tossing them to the gound. The only things in the room not affected were the two witches who still had their hands calmly placed together, their heads tilted back and eyes closed to the ceiling. The light stretched out towards each of the other occupants in the room. Just before it was about to touch any of them, it retracted in on itself, dimming its brightness and forming a human shape out of the shimmering light. An undoubtedly female shape with a stream of white energy trailing away from her and twisting around the witches' hands.

"Who are you to summon me?" the woman-shaped light demanded. The entities mouth did not move and her eyes, which looked like two portals to the cosmos, stared unblinkingly at Giles. Her honeyed voice was all around them and its strength compelled him to drop to his knees. If he were able to look away from the being in front of him, he would have seen that Alan and Buffy too had succumbed to the awesomeness of the goddess in front of them as they were both on their knees, staring at her dazedly. Her brightness was so intense that the rest of the room looked pitch black but none of them could look away.

The feeling of light and warmth that enveloped the Englishman caused him to let the book slide from between his fingers. "I am Rupert Giles and I speak for the women whose power you used to manifest yourself." He managed to reply, his voice hushed.

Vassea briefly turned her head toward Willow and Tara. "Yes, the Guardians. What need have they for the Conflation Ritual?" she walked, or floated, Giles could not be sure which, towards him. He got the distinct impression that there was mirth in her endless eyes. She was testing them. "They're already entwined."

He looked into the eyes of the goddess in front of him; she had either bent down or made herself shorter so she could look him in the face. The whites of her eyes were the endless black of space, speckled with stars. Two mismatched nebulae of magenta, blue, green and red swirled where irises would be. Her pupils were the white-hot centers of the galaxies and Giles did not doubt that what he was seeing in her eyes was the same thing astronomers saw when they looked through the heavens in their observatories.

"They need to be able to unlock the power you gave them. The world may be in peril."

"The world is always in peril, my son. What will the Guardians do against a threat to the world?" she jerked her starry gaze back toward the two witches. "Look at how vulnerable they are now. How can they protect the world if they cannot protect themselves? No, my son, perhaps I've made a mistake." She stood, or made herself taller, and tilted her head to one side. "Yes. I've made a mistake."

"No!" Buffy's voice shouted, causing the former Watcher to wince.

Vesseya walk-floated over to the Slayer and scrutinized her. "Who are you to address me in such a manner?"

"Aren't you omnipotent?" Buffy demanded instead, her tone innocent.

The mouth of the being turned upwards and she laughed. The sound was melodious. "What moved you to speak, Slayer?"

"They're not vulnerable. Not as long as I'm around." Perhaps her abilities as a Slayer extended to not being permanently awestruck in front of Higher Beings because Buffy sounded petulant. "And you didn't make a mistake."

"You would be the Guardians warrior?"

"Aren't I already?"

The deity stared into the blonde's eyes for several moments. "If I judge them unworthy, you will share their horrible fate, Buffy Summers."

The Slayer leaned her weight back, still on her knees. "Well the way I see it," she said carefully. "If you judged them unworthy, you wouldn't have even shown up in the first place, right? We'd all already just be…poofed or whatever it is you do."

The goddess laughed again, briefly filling the room with the music of her actions. "You're right. I've always like you, Warrior. You're a good soul." She touched the top of the blonde's head, causing Buffy's eyes to roll backwards and she shivered and slumped to the floor. "For that, I give you my blessing." She turned her gaze on Giles. "I will do as you ask, my son but do not take my favors lightly."

Giles nodded dumbly as Vasseya walk-floated back into the circle, hovering in the air between the two witches, her lower body just becoming part of the strand that bound her to the Wiccans hands. She closed her eyes for the first time and stretched her hands out on either side of her, touching each woman's head. Smiling slightly, her light dimmed until her form melted back into energy and twisted itself around the two women before seeping into them. Their eyes opened as if on some command and their pure white gaze focused on the other occupants of the room. Giles worried that they may have gone blind, but their eyes were not clouded.

"It worked." They said in unison, their voices sounding harmonized. They stood and let one hand free while they held onto each other with the other hand.

"You guys better not be talking like that forever." Buffy grumbled from the floor, rubbing her head. If that's what receiving a blessing was like, she was going to have to remember to politely decline the next time.

Tara and Willow shrugged. "Sorry." They intoned.

Buffy groaned. She really hated Higher Beings sometimes, even when they were her best friends.


	11. Chapter 11

**AN:** As always, thanks for the reviews. Sorry about the severe lack of updating, I recently had a death in the family and needed to take care of some things. Updating will (probably) be pretty sporadic for a bit. Thanks for being patient with me.

*

"Turn right." The mellifluous voices from the backseat of Alan's car demanded.

Buffy scowled out of the front passenger's side window, she should have elected to stay at the house with Alan, but she had told the sparkly goddess made of light that she would protect the Guardians. Even so, their tandem talking and gesturing was beginning to get to her.

"Twillow," the Slayer started, glancing up at the rearview mirror to find two pairs of marble white eyes meeting her gaze. She had given up on trying referring to them individually about an hour ago but only Giles, who was manning the driver's seat, seemed to mind. "Are we there yet?"

The witches smiled patiently. "Well," Tara said, even though their voices alone still held the polytonal quality of the two women speaking together. "We're closer than the last time you asked me. Which was only,"

"Five minutes ago." The redhead finished. "I know where we're going as much as you do. I'm just following the traces of magic left over from the spell that moved the temple in the first place. I'm doing the best I can, Buffy." The two Wicca's nodded their heads.

"I'm just saying…it's taking a long time. And I hate to be Pain-In-The-Ass-Girl, but can you _please_ try to quit using a singular personal pronoun while you're talking like that? It's way Village of the Damned and it's creeping me out."

"I agree." Giles muttered under his breath.

"Sorry, I can't help it." They replied, not looking the least bit apologetic.

"It feels weird to say 'we.'" Tara explained, shrugging her shoulders slightly as Buffy turned in her seat to give them a proper glare. "I…we're not trying to creep you out. It's just that,"

"We're not really a 'we' right now." Willow completed.

"Say what?" Buffy asked, shifting her weight in her seat so she could study her friends more closely.

"It's hard to explain." Tara said simply.

"Well, go on." Giles prompted as the last glimmer of the city lights faded behind them. "I'm afraid my academic nature is getting the best of me."

"Must be a day that ends in y." the Slayer announced dryly.

"It's like I'm just me. Just one person." Willow tried, both of their voices flowing easily out of her mouth. "Not Willow, or Tara, but both and the two of them…us…is the one of me."

"When I'm talking, it's just me talking." Tara picked up. "Even if I'm only using this mouth,"

"Or this mouth." The redhead finished. "It just took a little while for me to get used to the sensation of working two mouths."

"It's easier if I don't have to concentrate on keeping one mouth closed while the other one moves. I can do it, but it causes my voice to,"

"Hop bodies a lot."

"Right. Synchronized super witches. I get it. This isn't going to last forever is it? Cause, I love you guys and everything but…"

"You know," Giles interrupted thoughtfully, turning left when they instructed him to. "As much as it pains me to admit such a thing, Buffy's right. No one has ever successfully done a Conflation Ritual in all of recorded history. We don't even know what kind of side-effects there'll be."

"Vasseya won't stay long." Willow assured. "She told me that the side effects shouldn't be too bad."

"Vasseya said this? When?"

The two women tapped the sides of their heads with an index finger. "She's holding us together. Vasseya makes the ritual possible. I've got a lot of work before I can be at this level. Without her energy, I'd just be a mess of Willow-memories and Tara-memories not to mention abilities and personalities without any way of sorting through them myself."

"Of course!" Giles stated excitedly, slapping a fist gently on the steering wheel. "The Conflation Ritual was always meant to be used by the Guardians! That's why no one could do it successfully before. Up until now, people have only ever thought that the ritual was meant as a sort of power boost." He glanced briefly over at Buffy. "Like the spell we used to defeat Adam. But this, this just changes everything!"

"Are we there yet?" The Slayer asked, facing frontward again. "I think Giles is about to have a massive nerd-attack and I don't think it'll be safe for him to drive when it hits full force."

*

Warren's fists were clenched so tightly together that his fingers had gone numb and cold from lack of blood. To say that he was upset would have been a gross understatement. Warren Mears was livid. Callia had spun a tale about altered timelines and murder, both his and the blonde witch's which had rendered him temporarily speechless. After recovering from his initial shock, the only thing on his mind was that he got a miraculous second chance to do things right. His jaw ached from clenching his teeth together so hard but in the confines of the car he sat in, it was the only thing he could do to control the rage bubbling within him.

"You must calm yourself, Warren." Callia stated quietly next to him.

"We should go back." He replied, his voice coming out in a whispered hiss.

The raven-haired woman shook her head slightly. "No. You're not ready yet. You still have much to learn about the power that's been given to you. It's up to Kestrel right now."

"This is bullshit."

The eldest Kindred sighed heavily. "Close your eyes."

Warren tore his gaze away from the window for the first time since getting in the car to stare at his hostess incredulously. "What?"

"Your eyes. Close them."

The brunet frowned but cautiously complied. "There. Happy?"

"Stop talking. Find the Guardians."

He opened one eye and squinted at her. "What now?"

"You want to kill them now and you can't even find them? You don't remember what happened the last time you went up against one of them, but I thought for sure that my description of your demise would have been plenty. You've got to learn to hone your abilities now." She closed her own eyes and tilted her head to one side. "The Guardians are close to the temple site. Their power is more…intense than before. It would be stupid for you to go after them now."

"Why play this game with them? Just kill them and get it over with. I swear, all you evil types are all the same."

Callia's eyes popped open and she glared sharply at Warren. "We are _not_ evil, Mr. Mears. This is a business transaction and what you chose to do with your power when this is over is for you to decide but do not confuse our motives with yours. The Guardians must be destroyed, but not yet. They are the only ones who can find the second key, where the temple was moved and they are the only ones who can release Kadross from his bonds."

"And you'll think they'll do this?"

"That's what Kestrel is doing. She's going to keep them on track."

*

"We're here." Tara and Willow said from the front of their tiny procession, picking their way along an invisible path as Buffy and Giles followed closely behind. Sure enough, there was rocky clearing ahead, bathed in the bluish light of the pre-dawn sky.

Buffy pushed past them to check out their surroundings. Super powers or not, she was still supposed to be protecting them and the blonde had only acquiesced to letting them go first because she had no idea where she was going. It was an unimpressive clearing; a few large lichen covered boulders were strewn about the area as if some ancient giant had thrown them haphazardly. The Slayer jabbed her finger at a dark lump near the base of a large pointed boulder a few yards in front of them.

"There's someone here." She said needlessly, glancing at her friends. The quartet watched the person shaped lump for a few moments, but it did not move. "Come on, stay close."

Buffy approached the human mass carefully and knelt down to get a better look. A white-haired girl, probably a little older than Dawn, was laying in a crumpled mess of blood and bruises near the stone, her eyes squeezed shut, her face twisted into a mask of agony. When the blonde gently touched the girl's shoulder, her silver-blue eyes snapped open and she tried to push herself backwards, out of reach, succeeding only in flopping onto her side in a pathetic heap. Buffy craned her neck to look over her shoulder at the witches who had a perplexed look on their faces.

"Be careful, Buffy." The Wicca's intoned. "She isn't all the way human."

The Slayer nodded and turned her attention back to the girl. "Who did this to you?" she asked her gently, leaning her weight back slightly.

"They left me for you." The girl started weakly, looking past Buffy to Willow and Tara. The girl held up her bruised arms.

"They?" the witches asked, taking a cautious step forward.

The girl nodded and gave a watery cough. "They wanted me to turn off your bright light. They said that if I didn't, he would never wake up." She pulled her gaze down to the dirt.

"Kadross?" Giles asked, moving himself needlessly between the witches and the girl.

The white-haired girl nodded. "I said no so they crumpled me up and threw me away." She turned her gaze to the Slayer. "You're going to crumple me up too, aren't you?"

Buffy shrugged uncomfortably and glanced at her companions behind her.

Willow and Tara looked thoughtful for a moment seemingly debating silently with each other. "Will you let us see what's happened to you?" They asked the girl, coming closer to her and mirroring Buffy's kneeling position.

The girl was silent for so long, they thought she wouldn't respond but eventually, she nodded her head and squeezed her eyes shut. The Guardians reached gathered the silver-eyed girl's hands in their own and closed their eyes, concentrating.

A light tugging sensation pulled at their collective consciousness and they felt a tangible blackness reach its fingers through them and grasp hold. They had looked into someone's mind before, so the sensation was not a new one, but it was different.

The last time they had done it had only been three months ago. Xander had been rendered momentarily daft by a Vrixian Hound Demon and had been unable to tell them what had happened. Looking through his mind, a with most people, was a bit like reading a book; there was a sequential order to things. Images and words came at a rapid pace, but not so quickly that they could not grasp at them.

This was very different from that. Nothing in the girl's head had order to it. Sound tangled with picture, memories and dreams presented themselves as the same things and words pelted down on their psyches like a torrential summer downpour. It was chaos.

Looking out through the girl's eyes, trees rushed past them in a blinding blur that made it seem as if they were running through a green hallway. There was an enormous backside of an animal in front of them; it looked almost like an elk with moose antlers. They were chasing it. A joyous whoop pierced the clear blue sky and the girl bounded onto it's back, grabbing a fist full of tawny fur and giving them a glimpse of her stubby, child-like fingers caked in dirt like a second skin.

A flash of atom bomb bright light and they were looking up at the stern face of a beautiful young woman. Her raven-colored hair fell in long wave around her face and her hazel eyes showed her impatience.

"Kestrel." The woman started, crossing her tanned arms over her chest. "Stop squirming around! You can go after your lessons."

Another flash of light and there was the face of an ethereally beautiful man with a face that seemed to be carved of the finest powdered yellow marble. His hard argent gaze bore holes through them and the disappointment radiating from him was crushing. They looked down to find the girl's feet clad in little more than dirt and blood.

"You disappoint me yet again, daughter." The man said, his voice soft but stern.

"I…" The girl's voice began haltingly before being cut off.

"Stop, Kestrel." Their head lifted at the note of weariness and watched the man before them, his hair wild around him like a white-blue mane. "You can't help yourself." He stood from an ornate carved golden bench and paced the floor, trailing the resplendent deep blue cloth wrapped around his shoulders like a cloak.

"You were my mistake and are my burden to bear. I cannot keep up my campaign against the east if I have to concern myself with running after you!" His voice did not rise, but his anger was evident and they trembled. "You are confined to the temple until I appoint someone among the Kindred who can reign in your unfortunate condition."

"You would cage me, father? Tie a thread to my leg so I cannot fly away? Cannot hunt?" The girl's voice was growing louder, hysterical in its panic. "I'll die in here! I already hear the people chattering, chattering out there. They say: "How mighty is Kadross if he cannot even contain that little bird?" If you leave me here, I'll dance on their graves."

They looked towards the bronzed door behind them and they immediately felt the heartbeats of a hundred Kindred moving about the vast halls of the space beyond the room they were in.

"I'll stop all the drumming and thumping." The girl emphasized her point by starting to stomp her feet into the floor in a rhythm mimicking a heartbeat.

"Stop!" Kadross' voice boomed, the force of his anger knocking her onto the floor and causing her to retch slightly. "I will not have my own child speak such blasphemes against me!" He turned his attention towards the door. "Neirin!"

They sat in tense silence, Kadross' anger keeping her pinned to the floor, until the door swung open and a strong looking man dressed in a loose blue robe strode in and dropped to his knees. "You summoned me, Mighty Lord?"

"Go and fetch me the slave girl, Callia. Make sure she is presentable."

"Right away, Mighty Lord." The man said, raising to his feet and all but running out of the room.

"The slave girl won my admiration a thousand times over since I've made her one of the Kindred. I will place her in charge of you. Think on her as a mother. Obey her and you will retain your…'free air.' Do you understand, Kestrel?"

Another flash of light tore them away from that scene to the spot they were in now. There was a small group of people looking at her eagerly. In front of them was some sort of man with the head of a black rabbit with pitch black eyes. The flinty, sulfuric smell of gunpowder clung to his frame like a heavy aura.

"Where's…?" the girl asked, turning their head and causing them to look around in confusion.

"She's gone." The rabbit said, shrugging his shoulders. The hands pocking through the sleeves of his jacket were skinless and steaming in the moonlight. For some reason, his voice made them mad. Kestrel's fists clenched. "She couldn't watch, I guess. Weak stomach."

The girl laughed. "Look at Rabbit! King of the high places now that he's been remade and remade!"

The rabbit-man shrugged. "I should thank you, I guess."

He drew back a fist and swung at her. Knuckled collided with her eye and she yelped in pain as she felt a magical blast tear through her skull along with the stinging sensation of being hit in the face. A barrage of magic-augmented blows showered her like hail made of jagged glass and she crumpled into a bloodied heap, whimpering and barely conscious.

"Leave her for the Guardians." The rabbit advised as the small group shuffled past her.

The witches were thrust back into their own collective mind unceremoniously, leaving them slightly nauseous.

"What is it?" Buffy asked, readying herself to pummel something after five minutes of just watching the witches sit with their eyes pressed shut and staring at the weird shadows the lightening sky presented her with.

"Her name is Kestrel. She's Kadross' daughter." Willow said hoarsely. "She was supposed to kill us but she wouldn't. The Kindred used her to initiate someone else. I couldn't see them…just…"

"A rabbit." Tara finished. "They left her here, like this, hoping we'd get rid of her for them."

Buffy frowned at the thin girl. "What'll we do with her?"

The two witches were silent for a few moments before they nodded their heads. "She's coming back with us."

"Are you sure that's wise?" Giles interjected in a whisper.

"As sure as I can be. What choice do we really have?"

*

Faith's head snapped backwards as the fist connected with her jaw. Stars speckled her vision momentarily and she raised three fingers to the corner of her mouth where the clumsy punch had landed. The brunette Slayer winced as she made contact with the large gash in her lip and she spit a mouthful of blood onto the grass between them. Her brow furrowed for a moment before she glanced up at the vampire with a small smile on her face, running her tongue around her mouth to rid it of the coppery taste.

"There's more where that came from, Slayer." The vampire said cockily, fueled with the confidence of injuring his opponent. The dark grin on his face went slack as the brunette in front of him laughed.

"And where's that?" She asked, ducking another swing and sweeping a hooked leg underneath him, knocking him on his back. "The dollar store? You throw a punch like a drunk."

Faith sat calmly as hard as she could on the vampire's lower chest, her knees pressed into his arms, and pressed her stake indelicately against the memorized point above his breastplate where his heart was. She felt a tingle of satisfaction run through her when she felt one of his ribs cave under her.

He continued to struggle until she dug the tip of the stake into his chest, drawing a trickle of blood as she did. He must have recently fed and the thought made her mad. The vampire's face lost its demonic qualities and he lay rigidly as she pulled a vial of holy water from her pocket.

"What are you gonna do with that?" he asked nervously, nodding his head slightly to the vial.

The Slayer stuck the cork of the bottle between her teeth and popped the cork off easily, spitting the rubber stopper onto the ground where it bounced away out of sight.

"We're just gonna play a little game, that's all." She dug the tip of the stake further into his chest, stopping at his breastplate, his pained expression doing nothing but irritating her. "It's called 'tell me what I wanna know or find out what the inside of an ashtray looks like. Not very catchy, I'll admit, but it gets the point across pretty nice. What are the Kindred doing in town?"

The vampire winced and tossed his head from side to side, bucking slightly to try and throw Faith's weight off of him, but she would not budge and he only succeeded in snapping another rib. "I don't know. Get off me, Slayer!"

The brunette let him squirm for a moment longer, resisting the urge to spit in his face before tipping the bottle and allowing a few drops of the water to fall onto his forehead. As soon as his skin started to smoke and hiss, the vampire's face contorted and his teeth grew longer as he snarled woefully.

"You expect me to believe that?" Faith asked sweetly over his enraged howls as his face blistered and peeled, sending the acrid smoke of burning flesh up to her nose.

Instead of feeling disgusted, Faith's senses jumped into overdrive. She looked down at the vampire still thrashing his head; he looked pitiful. Her fist clenched tighter around the stake in her right hand, the vision of her knuckles turning white blurring momentarily. She wanted to plant her fists so far into the pathetic creature beneath her that she'd feel the dirt under his head. Squeezing her eyes shut, Faith shook her head and took a deep breath, regaining her focus. Now was not the time to revisit the deep end that she had so often flung herself into.

"C'mon, now." The brunette seethed, reigning in her impulse to dump the rest of the holy water onto his face. "You don't really expect me to believe that you have no idea when someone else is moving onto your turf? Please, you guys are like dogs sniffing each other's asses. Maybe I wasn't as clear as I thought with the name of the game, so we'll try again so you can catch up. What are the Kindred doing in town?"

The vampire coughed a few times and slumped his shoulders back. "They want some kinda key." He wheezed. "Something called a Sun Key. I don't know anything else, I swear!"

"You know, Bumpy, I feel like you're getting the hang of this game, but there's a strict no bullshit rule I forgot to tell you about." She pulled the point of the stake from his chest and stabbed him in the shoulder before resting the weapon over his heart again. She waited until his cursing died down before she spoke. "You should know, I really hate bullshitters."

"Why should I tell you anything? You're just gonna kill me anyways."

Faith shrugged. "Yeah, you're right, but I can make it so painfully slow that when your ashes finally float down to whatever Hell dimension you make it to, whatever they do to you there will seem like a fucking sweepstakes prize vacation compared to what I'm about to do to you."

"They're looking for two keys: the Sun Key and the Moon Key." He said quickly. "They pay for information. They want to know what anyone knows about the keys, some kinda weapons, um, Dusk Swords and they're looking for some demon warrior named the Vanquisher. They always make good with payment. The steady cash has half the underworld lookin to make something off the Kindred. That's it, I swear that's all I know."

He closed his eyes and braced himself for the killing blow, but instead of sharp pain, he felt the stake being lifted away from him and the Slayer's weight shift forward. When he opened his eyes again, her face was inches from his, she was staring at him in a way that made him wish she would just kill him so he wouldn't have to look into her eyes.

"Th-that's really all I know, Slayer." He mustered.

The brunette's face split into a wide grin, causing the cut on her lip to tear further. "I believe ya! There's just something about makin a guy pee his pants for fear of death that really just puts trust in a relationship, yanno? Wanna know a secret?" she tossed the bottle of holy water behind her shoulder and they heard it shatter when it hit a headstone. "I really wished you woulda kept bullshitting me."

Faith slammed the stake into the vampire's chest and his eyes went wide with shock before his whole body disintegrated into dust and ash, dropping her onto the grass. Hoisting herself up from the ground, the Slayer sighed heavily and dusted herself off before jogging off in the direction of the Summer's home. She had hoped that she would have been able to leave sooner rather than later, but it looked like she was going to be in for the long haul and the thought of dealing with Buffy and the Scooby Gang made her almost as weary as the idea of trying to figure out where all these new puzzle pieces fit.


	12. Chapter 12

Standing under the pale yellow light of the Summers' front porch, Faith lit a cigarette and inhaled as deeply as she could. The brunette scowled at the smoke as it left her, unsure if she were angry or not. She was going to call Angel tomorrow and tell him to sort this out; she couldn't stay here. This was starting to look like the long haul, and if there was one thing Faith Lehane was never ready for, it was the long haul. She was well aware that Angel had to have some working knowledge on how much time this situation would need. Sure, she knew that she had been chosen to go on purpose, but only in a delivery, light information capacity; not a magical crusade or whatever this was about to turn into.

She was angry that Angel had tricked her. Regardless of whether or not it was for a good reason, she was upset that he thought she even needed to be tricked in the first place. He was right, of course. He'd known her well enough by now to know that she had no intention of an extended Slayer reunion. It was still a little surreal, being back. She had honestly never wanted to come back. She would just calmly explain that this just wasn't her thing and he'd have to send someone else. It was nice seeing Dawn and she was warming up to Tara, but she did not belong here in the same way she didn't belong in the outside world.

Sighing, Faith lifted herself onto the side railing and tried to clear her thoughts with every cloud of smoke she exhaled. She was on the verge of relaxed when she heard the door open quietly. She threw a glance over her shoulder to find Xander gently closing the door after him. He nodded to her and she nodded back, turning her attention away from him again.

"Dawn's asleep on the couch." He started softly, as if he would wake the sleeping teen. He tiptoed away from the door and stood near her, his expression unreadable. "She wouldn't go to bed until you got back."

Faith smiled a little, but kept her face turned away from him. "Buffy call?"

"Yeah, about an hour ago."

The Slayer nodded and shrugged a little. She could wait to tell the blonde about her findings tomorrow. "Thanks for lookin after the kid for a while."

He moved into her peripheral vision and despite him being slightly blurry, she could make out a clear expression of dislike on his features. Her nose wrinkled slightly at the pungent and coppery smell of contempt. Strong emotions had the distinct way of clinging to people in a way that is impossible to ignore by wild animals, most demons, and Slayers.

"Great." Faith let out under her breath and prepared for the latest argument in the Vindication Olympics.

"I wasn't doing you a favor." He said just as quietly. "Let me make that clear."

"Hey, I got you. 'Faith bad, us, good.'" She replied as cheerily as she could muster. "I'm crystal clear."

"Good."

"Yeah, _fantastic_. Got any shots you wanna take, or can I give myself cancer in peace?"

Xander shook his head and started down the front stairs, thankfully taking away the metallic scent of his emotions with him. The faint odor burned her nostrils and made her feel tense, angry. He stopped mid-step and looked up at her, scrutinizing her carefully before shaking his head and moving back up the small staircase.

"You know, you can't just do the things you've done to people and expect us to throw a party because you've changed." He seethed harshly, jabbing an accusatory finger at her.

Faith nodded, seeing no reason to disagree with him. At least he wasn't denying that she had changed.

"You can't just expect us to go with it because you say you're sorry."

The brunette Slayer turned and looked at him for the first time; he had every right to be angry and she didn't want to deny him that. "I am sorry, though."

Xander shook his head, his mouth set into a thin line. "I believe you're sorry. Hell, I'll even be the first to admit it. None of us knows if you're _sincere_. Or you know, if you even still know the meaning of the word."

"I do." She replied, struggling to keep her tone from sounding sharp. "And I am."

"Yeah, we'll see." He retorted, sounding unconvinced. She watched him turn around and get into his car, driving away without once looking back.

Had she really messed up Xander that badly? She nearly rolled her eyes at herself. Of course she had. She remembered that night clearly. That had been the night she thought for sure that the Apocalypse was going to happen. She had been at Angel's; despondently making plans with the other Slayer, the vampire, and Willow. After they had gone over their "fight like hell and don't die" strategy, they had stood around morosely waiting for Giles to call with any news.

Faith had taken to trying to keep herself productive by sharpening her sword and Willow was trying desperately to find something in a book while Buffy and Angel made doe eyes at each other. Eventually, Willow had snapped her book shut loudly, startling them all into looking at her.

"Did you find something?" Buffy had asked, looking around furtively like she had been caught doing something wrong.

"Sorry." Willow offered meekly, standing up. "I just can't sit here anymore. All the anxious knots in my stomach are starting a union, and I'm pretty sure they're about to go on strke…" she stood up and took a step backwards, toward the door. "I-I'm gonna go to the magic shop and get some supplies. If we don't really know what's coming out, I could at least do, um, a protection spell."

"It wouldn't hurt." Angel agreed.

"You want me and Faith to go with you?" Buffy offered, already positioning herself to leave.

"No, no, I'll be okay. They're probably all…getting ready too. It should be okay. I-I'll meet you at the school."

So the redhead had left and soon enough, the anxious knots in Faith's stomach had started to make themselves known. What if this really was the end? What if they all died? She had lost the intense focus and calm that sharpening her weapon usually brought and frowned. What if _Buffy_ died? That would make her Slayer number one. Did she want that? She glanced over to where Buffy was wiping the blade of a light battle-axe with a cloth. The blonde looked up from her task when she felt Faith's eyes on her and gave the taller girl a restive smile before quietly returning to cleaning the already polished blade.

Faith had quietly laid her sword down onto the stone floor and stood, striding across the room and out onto the marbled atrium. The urge to get away spurned her forward and she was halfway up the back steps before turning around to find Buffy staring after her confusedly.

"Where are you going?" The blonde asked plaintively, crossing her arms.

"Need to get some weapons, maybe flip off my landlord."

"Faith…" Buffy replied warningly, but there was a tight smile on her face. "Do you want me to go with you?"

The brunette had really considered the offer and glanced behind the shorter woman to see Angel taking stock of what weapons were laying around. "Nah. If Red can go solo, I'm sure I'll be fine. 'Sides, I know you're dying to play a round of undead tonsil hockey."

"Huh?" she had craned her neck to get a good look at Angel through the window and turned back, chuckling a little. "I guess if the world's going to end, now's as good a time as any for ill-advised make outs..." a frown crossed her features briefly. "You sure you don't want me to go with you?"

The air between them seemed tense and even the hum that accompanied dead silence was quiet. It was if everything around them knew what was about to happen and the air had gone still with anticipation. They stood for several moments, staring strangely at each other. The feeling unnerved her so she gave the older Slayer a broad smile and made a shooing motion with her hands. "I'll be fine, B, I'm a Slayer too, yanno. I'll meet'cha at the school and we'll get this demon mixer started."

Buffy nodded and shrugged sheepishly, as if she had not considered that before. "Be careful, okay?"

"You know me!" Faith had tossed out over her shoulder before setting off at a jog, laughing at Buffy's reply of: 'that's why I said it.'

She hadn't made it very far when she had been attacked by a group of the Sisterhood of Jhe demons. She had managed to shake off all but one when Xander had shown up in his uncle's car. They had ridden silently back to the motel, with Faith checking for danger and calculating how long she would last in a fight with a dislocated shoulder. The odds weren't looking good; so she just had to hope that the ones she had run into were a fluke. She could have Xander help reset her arm, she'd collect her favorite weapons and be out the door in time to throw her landlord the bird; which though she had already done on several occasions, it had seemed more poignant because the world was about to end. She might even be able to come up with a pre-game plan if she got there early enough.

When they finally screeched to a stop in front of the Sunnydale Motor Inn, Faith was aware of two things: She wasn't going to the school early and she was going to sleep with Xander. The idea had seemed sound at the time. The world was about to end and everyone had something they loved. Buffy was with Angel, probably trying to out sulk each-other and having some Anne Rice-an level angsty farewell; Willow was with Oz. Granted, he was most definitely more fuzzy, but at least they were together; and Giles was with his books, which, as far as she could tell, had been replacing women in the recently ex-communicated Watcher's life for quite some time.

She had never much believed in that love stuff, but why would it be so bad for her to have someone, too? She knew he wanted nothing more than to get down her pants and once she had her shoulder-joint back in its proper place, she would be in the position to oblige him. She supposed she liked him all right; he was handsome in a goofy sort of way. He reminded her of a puppy. He was clumsy, whiny, and weak, but she had the inexplicable urge to ruffle his hair and pat him on the head. He would have to do. For a brief moment, she thought of how Buffy might react, but shrugged it off. It was no biggie, just a one-time thing and it wasn't like she was into Xander.

Faith knew she should have just fixed up her shoulder, got her weapons and gotten out of there, but she hadn't. She should have stopped when he told her he was a virgin, but she hadn't. She hadn't known how to stop. Even if someone had taught her restraint, she hadn't seen anything wrong with the situation at the time. After all, if life had taught her anything up until that point, it was that people couldn't be trusted. Eventually, they'll screw you over, kick your ass, or both. There were only two keys to a successful life. The first was getting the drop on people before their inevitable turn coating. A philosophy she called, "people suck." The second, that a person could trust no one but themselves. And sometimes, you couldn't even do that. She called that one, "I suck."

So she had made a bad decision. It hadn't been the first time, and it certainly wasn't the last time, but Faith hadn't realized exactly how bad that decision was until he had actually cuddled up to her afterwards. She had allowed it for a few moments and looked into his eyes. His big, sappy, puppy-brown eyes. That's when she knew she had made a big mistake. She had gone and deflowered one of Buffy's sidekicks. The blonde was certainly not going to be happy. At the thought of Buffy, the brunette Slayer suddenly remembered what she was supposed to be doing and had pushed herself away from Xander, glad to be done with the physical contact.

She had felt Xander's eyes on her as she gathered up his clothes and dumped them on the empty side of the bed. She picked the underwear off the top and flung them at Xander who put them on. He sat there for a moment, an expectant look in his eyes, so she had stared at him sternly until he got out of bed, a confused look on his face. The brunette pulled the sheet off the bed and wrapped herself in it before shooing the dark haired boy out the door and thrusting the wrinkled wad of his cloths into his chest.

"That was great." She said, starting to feel as perky as she sounded now that they weren't touching and he was outside. "I gotta shower." And with that, she had shut the door on Xander's face. Once she was alone, Faith had indeed taken the opportunity for a quick shower. Although Buffy wouldn't have been able to tell whom it was with, the thought of showing up smelling like sex was repulsive in a way that she wouldn't touch. She had hoped that Xander would had enough sense to leave after being shoved outside and sure enough, when she had left, sans any new weapons, he had been long gone.

If she had to pinpoint the exact moment when she had messed up the Scooby dynamic, it would have been somewhere around there. She had started to snowball after that, getting into the business of mucking things up professionally. And well, she'd tried to kill him. If she were Xander, she would have punched her in the face at the first available opportunity. But he hadn't; just one more reminder that she was forever one step away from losing control.

Faith sighed tiredly and dropped the long extinguished butt of her cigarette into a coffee can by the door which was half filled with dirt and read: "Faith's Gross Cigarette Pieces" on the front in large block letters above a picture of some dead person's lungs filled with tar, courtesy of Dawn.

The Slayer opened the door quietly and slipped through the house into the living room. Dawn was stretched out on the couch, one arm tucked neatly under her head and the other flung over her eyes to block out the flickering pale lights that came from the TV. Faith shut the TV off and navigated her way back to the couch to shake Dawn's shoulder gently. The teen waved her off and grunted a few times before slowly cracking open one eye.

"Faith?" she asked, her voice thick with the incomprehension of sleep. "Zat you?"

"Yep." The brunette responded gently, giving the youngest Summers time to rub her eyes before helping her to her feet. "C'mon girl, let's get you to bed. You're bogartin my camp site."

Dawn's chuckle turned into a loud yawn and she leaned heavily against the Slayer, closing her eyes and allowing Faith to steer her upstairs. "Where's Xander?"

"He went home." She gently pushed Dawn's door open and let her charge stumble blindly onto the bed, flopping over on her stomach.

"You get to talk to him?"

"A little." Faith gently tugged Dawn's blankets from under her and covered the girl up.

"Everything okay now?"

"Not hardly, Pint Size. Don't worry 'bout it."

"Did he tell you Buffy called?"

"Yeah."

Dawn nodded almost imperceptibly, her eyes closed. "She wants you to call her, no matter what time it is."

Faith felt her muscles tense up. "Something happen?"

"Dunno, she wouldn't tell me. Probably."

The Slayer chuckled at the girl's sleepy nonchalance and backed out of the room. "Okay, night Thumbelina."

The former Key let out a grunt of response and promptly lost her ability to stay conscious before the door was closed. Faith moved silently through the dark house and flopped down on the still warm spot where Dawn had been laying earlier. Rummaging around in the knapsack under the coffee table that she had brought with her, she pushed through a rolled up mess of clothes and a few half empty cigarette packs to fish out the cell phone Angel insisted she carry with her. Grabbing one of the half crushed packs near the bottom of the bag and stretching tiredly for a moment, she willed herself off the couch and through the kitchen where the green numbers on the stove clock seemed to ask her why she was still awake.

Opting for a grassy purchase on the ground, Faith dropped down to sit cross-legged against the house, wrinkling her nose as she stabbed at the buttons with her thumb in barley memorized fashion. She pressed the phone to one ear and lit a cigarette, already knowing that a conversation with Buffy warranted calm nerves.

"Hello?" a weary voice half-whispered on the other end, it's cadence cracked with exhaustion.

"Um, hey, Giles." Faith took the cigarette out of her mouth, feeling guilty for some reason, and nervously tapped the filter end against her knee.

"Faith? Is that you?" his voice sounded a little more awake now, and a little worried.

"Yeah, it's me…uh, sorry bout waking you up. I don't know what time it's supposed to be there…B just wanted me to call when I got in from patrol."

"Yes, of course. I'll go and wake her." There was a brief silence as if he were about to set the phone down. "How are you?"

"What?" the question caught her off guard. "Oh. I'm…I'm good." She replied carefully,

"Yes, so I've heard." There was a slight smile in his voice and Faith breathed out a half-chuckle. "I'll just go and get Buffy."

"Thanks, G-man." She heard him mutter something and though the receiver was already too far away for her to tell what it was, she laughed anyway. A minute later, there was a jostling sound as the phone on the other end was picked up again. Faith put the cigarette back between her lips.

"Faith?" Buffy's voice yawned, as if she needed conformation that the brunette were on the other end.

"The one and only."

"Thank God for small favors."

There was no real malice in the statement so Faith shrugged the comment off. "What's going on? Dawn said you needed me to check in, ASAP." Her brow furrowed with concern. "Blondie and Red okay?"

"Yeah…I think so anyways. They've gone into magical overload hibernation."

"Fight?"

"Spell. Did you find anything on patrol?"

"I went Spanish Inquisition on some vamp. There's a lot more to this shit than what we thought…" she gave Buffy a quick rundown of what had happened before she had returned to the Summers' house.

"Well this is just the most fantastic thing ever…" Faith could hear the scowl on Buffy's face and bit her lip to keep from laughing.

"Be careful with that sarcasm, B. You could overdose on it."

There was a half snort the brunette assumed was supposed to be some kind of ill-contained laugh. "This whole thing is going to get totally out of control…" she sighed wearily. "We went out to the woods at Amish o'clock in the morning and picked up a new friend."

"Kindred?"

"Yeah…I'd say so. Kadross' daughter."

"What?" Faith asked, straightening her posture as if that would help her hear better.

"Yeah. We're, uh…we're bringing her back with us."

"What the…have you totally lost it, B?"

"Probably." Her tone was annoyed. "You ever hear that saying about the pot and the kettle?"

Faith took a hard drag of her cigarette before she responded, sucking in her cheeks with the force of her inhaling. "Sure, B, but we all know that you and I aren't exactly held to the same standards of sanity, don't we?"

"Twillow said we had to." She retorted defensively.

"Who now?"

"Tara and Willow…but they kinda had their Wonder Twin's power activated by Vasseya, Goddess of sparkles and lightshows or something; who by the way, I'm not sure we should be too fond of. They merged into the form of a Higher Being or something. It was weird and magically and I think Giles cried…anyway, it left them with one witchy consciousness."

"Hence the Twillow. Got it. They okay?"

"Yeah. On the way back to the house, they started acting a little funny, like they were listening to something. They announced that the Sparkly Cosmic Goddess holding their brains together had to leave before she did permanent damage to their mortal shells and then they just kinda… knocked out. Giles said that because they didn't tap into the power themselves, they had limited use of it so I'm basically of the thought that Vasseya wanted us to find some half-crazed teenage demigod in the woods at o'dark-thirty A.M."

"What do you mean, _half-crazed_?" She liked the sound of this less and less.

"To be fair, she might be all the way crazy. She's definitely got some wires crossed and I don't really want to take any chances. On a scale from Giles to Drusilla, she's probably somewhere around you."

Faith lit another cigarette. She could tell by the tone in Buffy's voice that the barb was meant to be a joke, but the hair on the back of her neck bristled. "Thanks." She replied flatly. "How do you plan on getting her back here? I'm guessing she doesn't have a passport."

"Alan. Well, his lawyer nephew with a jet. Giles and I are gonna go back to the site where we found the girl to see if we can find anything else. If not, we're headed back."

"She can't be so bad, if you're willing to leave a half-crazed demigod with two passed out witches and a…whatever Alan is." The younger Slayer pointed out, not caring that the statement was a thinly disguised way of defending herself.

"Yeah, so far so good, anyway. She was beaten up pretty badly when we first picked her up, so at least we know she can be hurt. Worse comes to worst, he could knock her out. Vasseya was more or less there the whole time, so she knew we had Kestrel when she went back to wherever it is off-duty goddess' go. If it was okay to leave them helplessly passed out around her, I'm sure it'll be okay for a few more hours…" she interrupted her own rambling. "Why do you care anyway?" she asked suspiciously.

Faith rolled her eyes and ignored the question. "Well great. Hurry up and get back so I can get out of here."

"You're going back to LA?" There was an almost hopeful tone in her voice that made Faith want to stay, just to piss her off.

"I was thinkin more along the lines of back to the motel, but your enthusiasm is encouraging… Is that it?"

The silence that followed made Faith think that wasn't it, but she finally heard the blonde sigh. "Yeah. I'll call later if we find anything. See if you can find anything else out about what's going on. Maybe Anya knows something."

"Ja, mien führer."

"What?"

"I'll check on it after I've had some sleep."

"Right…" there was an awkward silence and Buffy cleared her throat uncomfortably. "All right then. Goodnight, or good morning…or whatever."

"Yeah, same to you, B."

Closing the phone with a plastic slap, Faith collected her cigarette butts and put them in another dirt-filled can by the door. This one was smaller, probably having housed fruit at some point, and had the words "Faith's Lungs" which Dawn had scribbled in the same blocked handwriting as the other. She locked the door to the kitchen behind her and wearily flopped down on the couch, only bothering to lazily kick her shoes off with her feet before stretching out into a semi-comfortable position.

Dawn had offered the use of her room during Faith's stay, but the brunette had told the girl that she couldn't stomach all those posters of boy bands watching her while she slept. Truthfully, with bunch of creeps after who knew what roaming around the streets, she felt better about sleeping on the couch. She was smack dab between the front and back door and Dawn's room was just over her head. If someone made the mistake of trying to get into this house, it would be one of the very last mistakes they made.

Rolling onto her side, her gaze landed across the front hallway and into the parlor. Buffy's room was above the nigh unused room Dawn had frequently called 'The Living Room Without A TV.' The teen had offered up Buffy's room as well, with a promise that they would put everything back exactly where it had been, but the idea had made Faith uneasy. The last memories she had of the inside of that room had been while she was laid up in a coma.

Restlessly, she turned her back on the parlor and squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her forehead into the fabric on the back of the sofa. She had the distinct feeling that it didn't matter whether or not she wanted to stay for the long haul. The bundle of anxiousness that sat in her stomach was practically pulsating a warning that she could taste in the back of her throat. Slayer senses. Whatever this was, this was just beginning and like it or not, she'd been dumped with the Scoobies to work it out. She really hated Angel sometimes.


	13. Chapter 13

Callia closed the door to her bedroom softly and leaned heavily against it, her eyes pressed tightly together. Not for the first time, she was feeling like bringing Warren into the fold was a horrible idea. He was almost impossible to rationalize with. She had explained a dozen times, at length, why they could not go charging after the Guardians in order to fulfill his sense of retribution. She had put up with his tirades only because she needed him to complete the plan. If she could have done everything herself, she would have, but Warren was necessary, whether she liked it or not.

Once they had gotten back to the manor they were staying at, Warren had launched into a tirade, insisting that he be allowed to go back himself. She had tried to appeal to his logical side, but the ritual had left him drunk with new power and the tale of his half-success had driven him into inconsolable, self-pitying violence. While on some level, she understood his anger; the Kindred had hoped against common sense that he wouldn't be too rash. If they fought the Guardians now, they would lose.

While it was true that the Guardians were weak, Callia knew without a doubt that they were being protected. More than likely by Vasseya who had meddled with the last Guardians as well. The Kindred too, were weak. Attacking the Guardians and the Slayers, even with her new allies, would be suicide. It was all right though, if there was one thing that Callia had in spades, it was patience.

At the moment, the only thing she really lacked was energy. Her bones felt leaden, her muscles ached and twitched with the remnants of magic from the initiation ritual and her sedation of Warren to keep him from leaving. Callia felt tired in a way that she hadn't felt since the first time she had been left alone with Kestrel. She tensed briefly as she thought of her charge. She wished she could contact the girl, if only to verify that sending her had been the right thing to do.

The Kindred opened her eyes and pushed herself away from the door, locking it. She had no time to worry about Kestrel. She knew that for the most part, her worries were unfounded, but there was always the chance that the Guardians could discover Kestrel's real purpose and that terrified her. Still, she had to do her best to trust the demigod and push her worries aside. There was too much left to do.

Callia shrugged off her suit jacket and in an uncharacteristic move, threw it carelessly onto her bed. As she flipped on the bedside lamp, bathing a small part of the room in soft white light, there was the muffled sound of breaking glass penetrating through the door and she shook her head as she heard the angry rise of Warren's voice. She would have to deal with him later. She had not expected him to take the news of his death well, but the man was positively bloated with hatred. The hazel-eyed woman wished that there had been someone else for her to use, but Warren had been chosen because he was the only one.

The raven-haired Kindred slipped out of her shoes and shuffled her way over to the small roll top desk opposite her bed and patted her pockets down for a key. Procuring the small gold key from the pocket of her black pencil skirt, Callia twisted the object in the gold plated lock and pushed the roll top covering upwards, leaving the key in the hole. The surface of the desk was much like the rest of the room, uncluttered, almost Spartan-like in appearance.

There were twenty wooden cubbyholes built into the back of the desk, ten on each side. On the right side, a few stubby candles sat with blackened wicks, attesting to how much use they got. On the other side, a few ornate looking amulets and vials of liquids. A stout cast iron cauldron was placed in the middle of the desk, its rough surface and interor scratched with ages of use. Callia absentmindedly pulled some of the herbs down from the shelf and dropped them without ceremony into the cauldron. A vial of clear viscous liquid followed that and she reached into one of the desk drawers for a box of matches. Pulling down four black candles from the cubbyholes, Callia lit them and placed them in a square shape around the cauldron, dropping the still burning match into the pot where its contents began to smolder. The room started to fill with a thick haze as the head Kindred pulled open one of the side drawers to retrieve her knife.

It was an exceedingly simple design, as far as knives went. The handle was made from the antler of a long extinct species of elk, finely polished and carved with intricate symbols. The wide six-inch blade was leaf shaped and made of a dark red stone, which felt warm to the touch. Callia took the knife in her right hand and flexed her left hand over the cauldron a few times.

"Nahkalla," Callia began in a firm, steady voice, trying not to let another muffled crash of glass break her concentration. "Regent of Hell, Seducer of the Innocent, Devourer of Souls, and Mistress of the Wicked. I call upon thee. Taste of my power and grant me audience." Callia turned her left palm upwards and stuck the tip of her dagger on her lifeline. She sliced through her skin, following the deep wrinkled line all the way from between her thumb and index finger down to the top of her wrist. She let the deep red blood well up in her hand before dumping her life force into the cauldron.

The golden-eyed Kindred stood perfectly still for a few moments, concentrating. She smelled the stannic scent of bone ash and the light, almost powdery smell of oleander before she felt the presence behind her.

"You forgot 'Commander of the Elite Legions.'" A soft voice whispered by her ear.

Callia turned around and gave the demoness a light smile. "Yet another title? Congratulations, Commander."

Nahkalla smiled broadly, her smooth white face flushing slightly with self-pride. She feinted a frown upon glancing down at the Kindred's injured hand. "Oh Callie, you didn't have to carve yourself up for me." She took the other woman's tanned hand in her own pale one and held it up between them, examining the cut for a moment before sticking out her tongue and running it along the wound. "Although I do appreciate it."

Callia pulled her hand away and thought the better of getting into an argument with the demon when she noticed that the cut had sealed itself back up. "Thank you."

Nahkalla shrugged and leaned her graceful frame against the wall by the desk, regarding Callia genially and licking blood off her lips.

It was odd to think so, but Callia rather liked the lanky demon, despite her origins. After Eurynomus had been vanquished, his place in the hierarchy of the underworld had been opened, assumingly, to the first devious cutthroat that could grab it. Though many demons had vied for the position and the power it would bring, The First ignored them all in favor of fashioning a new creation. Unlike Eurynomus, Nahkalla had more than just a modicum of free will. She was very nearly human in her ability to do what she wanted without having to further the cause of The First in exchange.

The rumor was that The First had been trying to make a demon with the best qualities of Eurynomus, Asmodeus and the witch Willow while still keeping the creature in his thrall. It was understood that Nahkalla was to assume the mantle of Queen of Hell, but without a soul, the Demon Link wouldn't take so the pale demoness took up her 'brothers' mantle as right hand of The First and while the undoubted Master of Darkness may have infused the qualities he deemed worthy into the demoness, she was just as undoubtedly not under his constant thrall and did not need his Darkness to survive.

The demoness resembled Eurynomus in the pallor of her skin, her blue-black hair, and her regal, delicate looking features. Where Eurynomus' eyes had always been completely black as all of his power and very existence depended upon The First, Nahkalla's pupils and sclera were black and her irises were a deep magenta color. The demon's personality resembled Eurynomus insofar that she had a penchant for subversion over overt force, but she was far from weak. Callia had personally witnessed the demon remove an entire spinal cord from a living being with no more effort required than a flick of the wrist.

"Here, Callie." The demoness said, pulling a small metal token out of the back pocket of her torn jeans and handing it to the Kindred. "Take my talisman. No sense in hacking yourself to little pieces whenever you miss me."

The hazel-eyed woman wrinkled her nose, but took the talisman and placed it into one of the cubbyholes in the desk. "How are things coming along in Bilal?" After Eurynomus had been destroyed, the energy from his dimension had been more or less liquidated in order to form Nahkalla's version of Hell, a place called Bilal. Though in this dimension, Nahkalla was only a little over six months old, in Bilal, she was as ancient as the mountains.

"We're still on track, if that's what you mean." The demoness answered, tugging gently at a silver chain around her porcelain neck and pacing slowly towards the bedroom door where a string of obscenities could be heard filtering through the cracks. "How's Warren doing?"

Callia sighed and sank tiredly onto the bed, wiping a hand over her face. "Isn't there anyone else?"

"Nope." She stopped just short of opening the door and turned her attention back to the Kindred, putting her hands on her hips. "Believe me, if I could have given you someone else, I would have. If it weren't for that witch, he would have killed a Slayer. Father's interested in him. We're lucky enough as it is that I've been able to keep him from realizing what we're up to. If there was anyone else to do this, I would have pointed them out to you instead."

"What happened to all that bravado you had before?"

Nahkalla raised her shoulders noncommittally and threw the other woman a lopsided smile. "There's always a chance father could figure out what I'm up to. Being worried doesn't make me a coward; it makes me careful. I don't want to incur his wrath just yet."

"Has he suspected anything?" Callia couldn't hide the concern in her voice; it was far too early for The First to be involved.

"No." she twisted a strand of her chin-length hair around one finger, tilting her head to one side and looking thoughtful. "It's ironic, really. Father spent too much energy trying to make me…" she pulled the silver chain around her neck out from under the grey t-shirt she wore, revealing an unremarkable light green gem; the Energumen Eye. "Compatible with his puppet queen maker, that he neglected to work on the things that would keep me under his control."

"You're sure?"

"If he knew anything, we'd both be dead, my dear. Or worse. Right now, everything is fine. Now," she dropped her hand and looked around the room curiously. "Where's Kestrel?"

"That's why I've called you here. Everything is going as expected. Kestrel is with the Guardians."

"How're you holding up? You're quite attached to each other, I've seen. This can't be easy for you."

"What do you care?" Callia asked, her voice hard.

Nahkalla frowned. "Don't confuse me with my brother, Callia. If I were anything like Eurynomus, you'd be calling me 'master' right now."

The Kindred ducked her head, the demon was right. "Forgive me, I've forgotten myself."

The demoness frowned and crossed the room to sit next to Callia. "I hadn't meant it as a threat. I'm very well aware of who holds the keys to my own freedom." She glanced sideways at her companion. "I'm sure she's fine, Callie. By the time the Guardians find out what she's up to, it'll be far too late."

"Yes…you're right. I can't help it; I've taken care of her for hundreds of lifetimes. Lord Kadross trusts me with her safety and should anything happen to her…"

"Relax. If you start worrying, everything is going to fall apart. How about some good news? I've found Valakore."

"The Vanquisher? You've found him already?"

"Luckily for us, he wasn't too hard to find. It's the getting that's going to be rough. It's going to take longer than expected."

"Can't you just…I don't know, teleport him or something?"

"Under normal circumstances, that would be a fantastic idea. However, Father's still holding a grudge against him. He's been stomping around one of the outer planar hell dimensions, reenacting Battle Royale for all eternity. The First is going to know the instant I squeeze so much as a molecule over there and I wouldn't be able to explain a good reason for going to the outer hells. Outer hells are strictly prisons and not even I have the authority to be there."

"Do you think he'll even help us?" Callia sighed, feeling even more tired.

Nahkalla shrugged. "I don't see why not. He's been fighting off other banished demons in an enchanted iron maiden suit for the last two millennia. I'd say he'd be suitably interested in what we have to offer him."

"So how do we free him?"

"The beauty of it is that we don't have to. Once I give the Guardians the Energumen Eye, father will know that its switched hands. He'll assume that they're going to try and destroy it and he'll have no choice but to summon Valakore. It'll take longer than we'd planned, but it'll give us the element of surprise a while longer."

"The First won't go after it himself?"

The demoness smiled broadly and laughed. "He's not really that different than the Light. They spend so much energy and time on making dimensions they can use as battlefields that they'd rather send their little chess pieces out to do battle. Father is about as arrogant as they come, anyways. He'll think the Guardians are his only problem."

"You're awfully nonchalant about planning to destroy your own father."

"Oh come on, Callie. I know somewhere underneath that icy exterior, you're excited as hell. Think about it for a minute! Real freedom!" she sighed and leaned her weight back on her hands. "Maybe I'll even get a soul."

Callia chuckled softly and shook her head. "I didn't know you had such a driving desire to be human."

"Bite your tongue. I have the driving desire to be what I am. Right now, I'm nothing but a glorified slave, like all the others, but that will change."

"And what of the Sun Key, or the swords?"

A hesitant rapping at the door brought their conversation to a halt. The Kindred stood and wearily put her suit jacket and shoes back on, her expression steeling. With a nod towards the door, it unlocked and swung open revealing one of the initiates. The young man, who barely looked out of his twenties, was sporting bruises and shallow cuts all over himself. He nervously shuffled into the room and bowed his head.

"I'm sorry to disturb you while you're in a…" he swung his swollen gaze towards Nahkalla before concentrating on his feet again. "Meeting… but he's getting out of control."

"Fret not, fragile mortal." The demoness responded flippantly, standing and stretching grandly. "I was just on my way out."

Callia frowned, but nodded towards the young man. "Go on, get yourself cleaned up. I'll be down shortly."

The man bowed his head again gratefully and made his retreat. With the door open, there was nothing to filter Warren's ranting from downstairs and his shouts assaulted their ears, unimpeded.

"Better get the hose." Nahkalla said lightly, stepping away from the pool of light that spilled in from the hallway.

"You're sure there's no one else?" The Kindred muttered, only half joking.

The pale demon shook her head. "Positive. That little meat bag is the best bait we can get, trust me."

"I suppose I better knock him out before he mangles the whole clan."

"Hey, it was your idea to initiate him." She smiled widely when Callia glared at her.

"If we wanted him alive in order to do his part, it was necessary. Besides, without being initiated, Kestrel would have most certainly gotten bored with him and killed him. Now he belongs to her father, so he's safe…well, safer."

"Don't sound so defensive." The demoness chuckled. "I never said it wasn't necessary, I just said it was your idea." She held her left hand in the air. "I'd better blink before dear old dad notices I'm not harvesting souls to feed his ego. I'll contact you when I have more information."

"Wait, what about…"

"I've narrowed the search for the Sun Key," Nahkalla interrupted, lowering her hand. "And I'm pretty sure we can find its exact location within the next two weeks. Still nothing on my end with the Dusk Swords but when Kestrel brings us the activated Demon Link, we won't even need them."

"Just the same, I think we should keep looking."

"Agreed." There was a loud bang downstairs, like a bookcase had fallen followed by a string of obscenities. "Go on and put a muzzle on the kid. I'll keep doing the legwork. If The First finds out what we're doing, we can expect to be keeping Valakore company for the rest of eternity." She raised her hand again and held her palm out. "Stay off the radar as long as you can. If you fight too much, too early, it'll ruin everything." With that, Nahkalla closed her open hand quickly and she disappeared, the only evidence of her having been there at all was the talisman on Callia's desk and the lingering smell of bone ash and oleander.

The Kindred wiped at her eyes tiredly and threw a longing glance at the neatly made bed before striding out of the room, shoulders thrown back and a cold expression on her face.

*

The second Faith opened her eyes, she knew, somehow, that she was dreaming. Maybe it was that the sun was just a little too bright, the birdsongs from outside were just a little too loud, or the eerie stillness of the rest of the house. Enjoying the light, almost intoxicated feeling of lucid dreaming, the brunette Slayer stretched and sat up slowly, bracing herself for the inevitable return to consciousness that occurred when she realized she was dreaming. She made her way through the empty house, wondering why she couldn't have dreamt of something more interesting than the Summers' living room.

Though she would like to pretend that she had directed herself there, Faith felt herself being pulled towards Buffy's room. Irrationally checking Dawn's room first to make sure the teen wouldn't catch her snooping, the brunette stepped into the older Slayer's room and shut the door softly behind her. It looked unchanged from the last time she had dreamt about it, though she wasn't sure it looked like that in waking life as she had been very careful to not open the door to the blonde's room.

The bed was neatly made and the sun shone brightly through the window, lending a cheery atmosphere to the space. She felt like she was supposed to be looking for something, but what, she wasn't sure. Feeling helpless, she clenched and unclenched her fists a few times, unable to quell the feeling that she shouldn't be in Buffy's room.

"Fuck it." Faith said loudly to the empty room after a minute. "It's my dream and I can do what I want."

As if giving herself permission was all the encouragement she needed, Faith strode over to the closet and yanked the door open, dropping down on her knees and digging through the piles of stuffed animals and balled up clothing that littered the floor. After only a few seconds of frantic searching, her fingers hit something sharp and she sucked in a breath as she felt her finger being pricked.

Puling her hand away from the closet, Faith frowned at the scarlet drop of blood beading on her index finger and stuck it in her mouth. This wasn't right, dreams weren't supposed to hurt. Even in her fevered dreams while she was in a coma, the only time she had actually felt anything had been…panicked, the brunette carefully stuck her hand back into the unkempt mess on the floor of the closet, and removed the knife from within its depths.

On seeing the weapon, the dream feeling fled her quickly, replaced by a nervousness that threatened to have her retching all over the clothing littered carpet. She gripped the curved mahogany hilt tightly, her knuckles turning white. The split blade sported smooth lines at the top and dangerous angles near the bottom, it's sharpened half moons grinning at her, mocking her. She knew this knife; it had once been a gift given to her by a father figure what felt like a lifetime ago. She had a five inch scar on her abdomen that could attest to their past history. This was obviously not just a dream and the realization filled her with dread.

"Hello, Faith." A dulcet voice said from behind her, startling her into gripping the handle of the knife tighter.

The youngest Slayer scrambled to her feet, spinning around to face the speaker. A woman who looked remarkably like Buffy smiled gently at her and nodded a greeting. The only thing that clued her to the fact that this was not her sister Slayer was the slight white halo around her frame and her mismatched eyes that seemed to speak to her of the Cosmos.

Faith looked down at the knife in her hand and back up at Not Buffy who was smiling serenely. "You're not Buffy." She said unnecessarily, her voice strained.

"No." Not Buffy agreed, nodding her head. "I'm just playing Buffy in your dream." She joked.

"Nuh-uh." The rouge Slayer insisted, shaking her head and tossing the knife odiously onto the bed quickly, as if it had stung her. "It's not my dream. I wouldn't put that thing here."

Not Buffy nodded again and regarded the knife interestedly but did not pick it up. "Not on purpose, of course. You're both hanging onto it though," she inclined her chin towards the bed, the sheets not showing so much as a wrinkle from the knife. "It wasn't out in the open, it's buried…but you both put it here."

"Who are you?"

The blonde shrugged. "A friend." She took a few steps towards the center of the room. "Do you know what you are, Faith?"

"A Slayer." She frowned at the knife. "I'm not a killer anymore."

Not Buffy laughed. "You're a fighter, Faith. You've been fighting since the first day, haven't you?" the shorter woman didn't wait for a reply before continuing. "I was there when you took your first breath, but you wouldn't remember. They said you weren't going to last the night. You were too small, too early, there was too much wrong…but you fought, and you won."

The blonde's smile faded as she continued. "When your mother and her beau of the week would beat you, you fought. Even when you were outnumbered and overpowered, you fought. It's more than just killing demons, Faith. Don't you know what you are?"

Faith snorted uncomfortably and shrugged. "A good punching bag?"

Not Buffy looked amused but shook her head. "You're a Warrior, Faith. That's what you are."

"Okay?"

"There's a lot of work to do yet. Buffy needs you."

"Like a hole in the head."

"You're both so resistant, it's frustrating." Her tone sounded irritated, but her expression was soft as she stepped away from Faith and went to the window. "You should be proud of yourselves, really. It takes a lot to frustrate me."

"Great, so do I get a prize or something?"

Not Buffy wrinkled her nose. "It's strange that even your insolence is endearing. It must be a Slayer trait." She turned away from the window and walked back over to the brunette. "It's funny that you should mention a prize, Warrior, because you do indeed get one." She reached out and placed her palm on Faith's forehead gently. "I'm going to give you my blessing."

As soon as the words had left Not Buffy's mouth, Faith's body was flooded with a sense of peace that she had never felt before. A warm tingling energy washed over her and her eyes rolled back involuntarily; it took all of her will not to crumple into a heap on the floor. Her knees buckled, but she managed to remain upright. When Not Buffy removed her hand, Faith was surprised to feel that her cheeks were wet with tears but the brunette didn't move to wipe them away.

"Who are you?" the brunette whispered in awe, her voice hoarse.

"That's not important, Warrior. What's important now is that you help Buffy protect the Guardians."

"They don't need me."

"They do and they will. There are too many trials and not enough time to prepare for them all." Not Buffy sighed. "I wish I could do more, but I've already interfered too much."

Faith's brow wrinkled slightly as she frowned, but she nodded her head. Higher Beings were very adamant about not meddling much in the affairs of mortals, even if their meddling could save their own hides. She supposed it had something to do with choice and free will, but she wasn't going to pretend she understood it.

Not Buffy gave her an apologetic half smile as if Faith had spoken her thoughts out loud and moved towards the door which was now open. Just before the blonde crossed the threshold, she turned and regarded the knife on the bed.

"Don't keep it buried." The blonde said solemnly.

Faith glanced down to find the weapon in her hand once more. "What am I supposed to do with it?"

Not Buffy smiled broadly, her two perfect rows of white teeth looking almost pearlescent in the dream-light. "Deal with it. Not just for your sake, but for hers…for all of us. Leave it in the open." She watched as Faith carefully put the blade on the nightstand near the bed, the scattered mess of clothing mysteriously absent. Not Buffy nodded her approval. "See you around, Warrior."

Faith snapped out of sleep so quickly that she was momentarily mystified as to why she was no longer in Buffy's room. The sun shone brightly outside and the birds chirped merrily as if nothing important had happened, but the brunette knew better. Her whole body still tingled with the power of the blessing Not Buffy had given her and there was a shallow but conspicuous cut on the index finger of her right hand.

She stayed on the couch for several minutes, staring unseeing at the khaki colored fabric inches from her face before rising to wake Dawn and make the trek to the Magic Box. She wasn't sure what it all meant, but something inside her was averse to letting Not Buffy down. Whatever the explanation, the one thing that was completely certain was that she wasn't going anywhere any time soon.


	14. Chapter 14

Kestrel perched on the edge of her seat, drumming her fingers on the tops of her knees. In front of her, the Guardians were slouched against each other, looking tired and wan, both sleeping soundly though the jet shuddered with the force of the air around it and the rumble of the engines echoed deeply throughout the plane. The atmosphere around the witches still hummed with the dying vibrations of Vasseya's energy and it made the demigod's head hurt. Across from her, in a little nook, Giles and Alan were bickering over an open book that lay between them on the glossed mahogany table that was bolted to the floor. Stretched out on the uncomfortable but highly fashionable beige leather couch behind her, Buffy had spent most of the plane ride dozing out of sheer boredom.

Kestrel heaved a great sigh, and pressed her face to the window next to her. Below them, fat white dollops of clouds stretched out like infinite snowdrifts. She peered curiously down at the earth when the breaks in the cloud cover permitted. Tiny ant-like houses situated in cubicle fashion crowded the sides of suburban roads, tiny ant-like cars carrying ant-like people, invisible at that height, going about their daily lives within their hives. She wondered how many people were dying right now, down there in the ant-farm. The Kindred tried to feel for their heartbeats, but plane was moving too fast and there was nothing to focus her.

She scooted back in her seat and pulled her bare feet up to rest on the edge of the chair and set her cheek on her knees so she could still look out the window. She wondered what Callia was doing. She missed her mentor already. It wasn't often the two of them were apart for long. Callia had always understood Kestrel without the white-haired woman having to try and explain herself. She liked that she had never treated her like her father had, as a hindrance, an inconvenience.

Some part of her knew what trouble she could be, but she couldn't help it. Sometimes, the sheer frustration of not being able to say what she meant maddened her more than the visions she had. She was a timeless supernatural being squashed into the confines of a shell that was not biologically or emotionally equipped to deal with those parameters. Kestrel knew she was crazy, she knew what the other Kindred thought of her. She supposed that was her curse. Her curse was madness. Callia and father's curse was her.

Wrinkling her nose at her barely visible reflection, the demigod unwound herself from her ball of self-pity and stood, stretching her arms out experimentally like a butterfly testing its wings after it leaves its cocoon for the first time. She flittered down the aisle, stopping to stick her tongue out at Alan who was eyeing her warily. Humming, Kestrel made her way to the back of the plane where there was a tiny alcove, which was enough space to be by herself.

She pulled the thin blue curtain closed to block off the alcove and hoisted herself up on the edge of the black countertop. The waist high counter was also bolted to the floor and held a myriad of alcohol bottles behind it. Kestrel situated herself on the top of the uncluttered surface sideways, so she could look out of the larger window that was off to the side of the bar. The silver-eyed woman lifted her arms as she came to a particularly long whole note in her humming. Her limbs were still speckled with magenta and purple bruises, though the swollen bumps in her lip and face had gone down.

"Crécerelle, inutile crécerelle," She sang softly, bobbing her head up and down. "Crécerelle, je te battement." She wasn't quite sure what the words meant, but one of Eurynomus' acolytes assigned to 'keep her in line' was constantly singing it. She liked the tune as much as she hated the demon that had originally sung it to her. "Je te battement les âme, je te battement les âme. Et les âme, et les âme, crécerelle, crécerelle, aaah-aaah-aah-ah…"

She was on the verge of launching into another verse when the metallic sound of the curtain rings being pushed to one side of the metal pole they sat on startled her from her reverie. Tara smiled meekly at her, the blonde's face almost grey in its ashen pallor. Kestrel cocked her head to one side, watching as the witch procured a bottle of water from a small fridge set into the wall next to the counter that Kestrel had mistaken for part of the wall.

"What were you singing?" the Guardian asked gently, knowing full well what the words meant.

Kestrel shrugged and swung her legs back and forth, her heels thudding against the body of the counter. The concerned tone in her voice reminded her of Callia and compelled her to answer truthfully.

"The falconer would sing it when he put me in the cage at night…" she noted the distraught look on Tara's face and frowned. She was supposed to be gaining their confidence, not upsetting them. "He's dead now." She added hastily, hoping to diffuse the situation.

The Wicca nodded but didn't reply, her expression still troubled. Tara sank down onto the single seat hitched to the wall opposite the bar that was intended for a flight attendant, had there been any, and pressed her water bottle to her forehead. Her entire body was still pulsating with the remnants of Vasseya's power and it left her mentally drained. Though she and Willow had been one entity for only a short time, she felt cold and weakened without the redhead's presence. In the back of her mind, she somehow knew that Willow was less than fifteen feet away, that her brow was crinkled slightly at the blonde's absence but she was still sleeping and was dreaming about making trade negations with a delegation of talking koalas.

In truth, the blonde was glad for Vasseya's departure. Not just for the sake of their sanity, but for the sake of her secrets. Tara really did hate keeping her feelings over her foray into Dark Magic away from Willow, but she also didn't want to bombard the redhead with her misgivings about herself. She would be eternally grateful to the luminescent goddess for keeping that part away from the redhead. She would be allowed to talk to her girlfriend about it in her own time. Whenever that would be. The blonde squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to figure out why it was so hard to talk about what had happened. She wanted to tell Willow, she truly did, but she didn't know how. Even just the thought of some of the things she had done made her dry heave. Still, she would have to worry herself into nervous ulcers later. Right now, they had much bigger things to figure out.

Tara regarded the white-haired girl-child who had begun drumming lightly on the countertop in tandem with her skewed version of 'Alouette,' humming most of the tune except when it came to the repetition before the chorus. Vasseya had told them (her? She still wasn't sure how to refer to their collective consciousness now that she was once again a singular person) that they should take Kestrel with them, but she was not to be trusted. She couldn't help but feel protective of the demigod. It was clear that the girl was damaged; maybe beyond repair, and the look that haunted her eyes had been the same look Tara had given herself in the mirror when she was still living with her father.

What was the Kindred's purpose? The blonde suspected that Kestrel was to spy on them, but to what ends? The girl was clearly mad, perhaps not even capable of spying properly. Regardless, she would have to remember to keep her guard up, no matter how much she wanted to help her.

Xander scowled at the book in front of him and tossed it back onto the table, feeling somewhat satisfied as it slid across the smooth surface and landed with a loud slap onto the floor.

"Xander! If you bent that, I'll make you buy it!" Anya warned loudly from somewhere in the back of the Magic Box, hidden behind shelves of merchandise.

He mumbled something apologetic and slowly got out of his chair to pick the book up, brushing off imaginary dust to keep from turning his scowl onto Dawn who was giggling. Just as he was sliding back into his seat, he noticed Faith making her way towards the table, wiping sweat off her face with a towel.

"What's she yellin' about now?" the Slayer asked the former Key, rubbing one of her shoulders, which was stiff from what she was now mentally referring to as her "avoidance workout".

Dawn shrugged and smiled genially. "Xander is disrespecting the products." She replied in her best Anya voice that was eerily accurate.

Faith felt the brunette Scooby's gaze stab at her as she bit back a chuckle. "How's it goin with the bookworm stuff?"

"Shitty." Xander replied sourly before shooting Dawn an apologetic smile. "Sorry…" He turned his attention back to Faith and his smile vanished. "You should have left that vampire alive until we could make sure he was telling the truth."

Faith rolled her eyes and shrugged. She was weary of playing this game with him. "Yeah, well, vampire slaying is in the job description. You got a problem, you can take it up with management."

"Would that I could…"

"Guys…" Dawn cut in sternly. The truth was, she was just as tired of their exchanges as Faith was. "Maybe, um, we could ask that girl they're bringing back? The Kindred?"

"Great idea Dawn," Xander started, shaking his head. "Oh wait, no, she's crazy. We're probably gonna have to make sure she doesn't try to chase cars down the street or something."

The youngest Summers shrugged her shoulders and leaned back in her chair. "I don't see any of you coming up with any suggestions…"

"I don't do research." Faith reminded her holding up her hands, watching as Anya moved to the front of the store to turn the 'open' sign around so that it read 'closed.' "Hey, Anya!"

"I'm not a part of these shenanigans." The demon replied, feather duster in one hand and other hand on her hip as she turned around. "As much as I'm beginning to appreciate being a part of a cohesive group and making sure Xander's squishy bits stay on the inside, I'm going to be the Swedish."

"You mean Sweden." Xander corrected.

The Slayer shrugged at the youngest Summers. "There ya have it, Thumbelina."

Dawn cleared her throat and prepared to launch into a harsh reprimand in her best mommy voice when an electronic humming noise interrupted her thoughts. Faith glanced around the table stupidly before realizing that it was her phone going off and raised her shoulders once, pulling the offending thing from underneath a shoulder strap in her bra, flipping it open and pressing it to her ear.

"Yo…hey, B….uh-huh…yeah, they are….Okay…uh, sure, see you in a bit." She closed the phone and set it on the table. "Well, they've just landed. We're gonna meet them over at B's in an hour." She tilted her head towards Dawn. "Maybe you'll get to ask the Kindred after all."

Kestrel cocked her head to one side and watched the rest of the room watch her. There had been a lot of talking and explaining when the Guardians' troops had arrived, but now there was only silence. She cast her gaze around the room, cataloging the new people. The dark haired woman that smelled of smoke was, she figured, the other warrior for the Guardians. She and Buffy had similar energies and she could smell Vasseya on both of them, though Kestrel decided she liked the dark warrior best because she seemed like she could become unhinged at any moment. The tall brunet man was eyeing her warily. She liked the flicker of fear on his face. Next to him was the demon Anyanka whom Kestrel had never met before but was a big fan of her work. Then there was the girl that they referred to as Buffy's sister. Kestrel found her interesting as she was bathed in a green light. She seemed new, much younger than she looked.

"Well we're all caught up." Xander said from his spot on the couch. "What now?"

"Well," Giles started, taking off his glasses. "We still need more information about the Kindred and we have the best available source here." He pointed his glasses towards Kestrel who had begun rocking herself back and forth in the middle of the living room floor.

"Rupert is right." Alan chimed in, leaning his elbows on his knees and peering closely at Kestrel. "Tell us what you know."

"I know lots of things about rabbit stew." She replied grinning.

"Oh brother." Buffy said, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

"Tell us about the Guardians," Tara said softly "what are their purpose?"

"Guardians guard. Warriors war and protect the Guardians. Father sleeps in his prison and Kestrel longs to be free." She reached her arms towards the ceiling.

"Great resource, Giles." Buffy injected sarcastically.

Faith, who had been silent the entire time, knelt down next to the silver-eyed demigod. "Do you know where this goes?" she asked, pulling the tablet from her jacket pocket and handing it to Kestrel who took it and pressed it to her cheek, still rocking.

"It goes in the door lock." She replied. "It won't unlock the door though, you need the other one."

"How do we find the other one?"

"How does a falcon hunt for rabbits?" she giggled as if she had said something funny. "You have to look, look, look… but not here." She looked around. "The things you need aren't here."

"Where are they?"

Kestrel tilted her head back and squeezed her eyes shut. She was supposed to lead them somewhere, what had Callia said? She stopped rocking. "Bilal." She said finally, opening her eyes and rubbing her cheek against the warm stone. "Maybe everything else will be there too. Bilal is old and new at the same time…" she pointed at Dawn. "Like her.

"Where can we find Bilal?" Faith asked gently.

"Somewhere in time and space. It doesn't exist here, not in this reality. I can get us there, I know the way."

"Later." Buffy cut in. "We have to first find some information about this Bilal and what we're getting ourselves into. Plus, I don't trust her yet."

"Me neither." Kestrel said, grinning.

"Fine well, we have to figure out where to keep her…" she looked earnestly at Xander who held up his hands and shook his head vehemently.

"I'll take her." Faith said, surprising everyone in the room.

"You're sure about this?" Buffy asked cautiously.

"Sure . I'm good with kids. 'Sides, I don't see anyone else jumping at the chance."

"True…I guess that's settled then. We'll meet up at the shop tomorrow morning and try to figure out this Bilal place."


	15. Chapter 15

_Tara was back in that other Sunnydale, lounging on the soft cushions of the couch in the back room of Wyrd: her magic den. Light from the back door window landed squarely on the maroon carpet and lent the room a dim light. She turned to face Willow, who sat next to her with a smile on her face. She was wearing the Energumen Eye. _

"_You're sure you want me to do this?" The blonde asked, stroking one of her hands down the side of the redhead's cheek. _

_Willow's smile broadened as she replied. "Of course, isn't this what you want?"_

_Tara brought her hands up to Willow's temples and rested them there lightly. "More than anything."_

_The redhead closed her eyes. "Then do it."_

_The older witch nodded and felt dark power rush out of her through her right hand while her left hand sapped Willow's energy and caressed the darkness already within her. She tasted like strawberries. Tara began to sweat with the effort of feeding; this was different than anyone else. This was darker, better, more powerful. Her own eyes slid close and she removed her hands only after feeling completely intoxicated by the other woman. Willow swayed back and forth gently, a smile still on her face. When she opened her eyes, they were pitch black, matching the now coal color of her hair._

"_That feels much better." She hummed, taking the blonde's hands. The necklace had turned a mottled shade of dark green. "I couldn't have done it without you."_

Tara woke with a start and nearly tumbled out of bed in her effort to get to the bathroom. Once there, she shut the door quietly and commenced to empty the contents of her stomach into the toilet. It had just been another nightmare, but that one had felt more real than the others. Even her nerves tingled. Flushing the toilet, Tara stood up to reach of her toothbrush and caught her reflection in the mirror. She looked almost as awful as she felt. Dark circles had found their way under her eyes and her skin was washed out. She looked like she hadn't slept in days.

Once her teeth were brushed, she shakily shuffled back to bed as quietly as she could, crawled in beside her girlfriend and curled into the fetal position, sure she wasn't going to get anymore sleep that night. After several minutes of stinging silence, she felt a hand rubbing her back gently.

"I thought you were going to wake me up next time." Willow whispered.

"I didn't mean to wake you when I got up." Tara confessed, uncurling herself and rolling over to face the other witch in the dark.

"You didn't." the redhead assured, moving her hand to the blonde's hipbone. "You had a bad dream and it woke me up."

The older witch frowned. They must still be experiencing the side effects of the ritual. "Did you see it too?" she questioned, her tone already apologetic.

"No, not really. Maybe…maybe you can talk about it?"

Tara took a tremulous breath and let it out slowly. "We…we were back in Eurynomus' dimension a-and you…you were wearing the Demon Link. Y-you let me f-feed on you." She hiccupped as a dry heave threatened to come up. You went all…_black_ a-and said you couldn't have…couldn't have done it without me." She trailed off and bit at her lower lip.

"Oh, baby…" Willow started, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend. "That isn't ever going to happen. We're not those people anymore."

"I know, b-but it felt s-so real." She buried her face in the redhead's shoulder and couldn't help the tears that started to flow. "I'm just so terrified of b-being that person." She sniffed. "I don't w-want to hurt you."

"You're not that person, Tare." The younger witch stated firmly, her voice still barely above a whisper. "And I know you would never hurt me." She stroked Tara's hair gently as the other woman cried. "I know this is hard, but you're not alone, okay?"

"Th-thank you…"

"You don't need to thank me. I love you and I've been through what you're going through. I'll do whatever it takes to help you and you're not gonna have to do this alone."

Tara sniffed one last time and nodded, suddenly feeling very tired. "I love you too…I think I might be able to go back to sleep."

Willow kissed the top of the blonde's head and hugged her again. "And I'll be here if you wake up."

Faith yawned and sat up, rubbing her eyes gingerly. Reaching for her phone, she discovered that it was just past four in the morning. Stretching as she got off the couch, she made her way towards the back balcony. While the Sunspot Motel was practically ritzy compared to the Sunnydale Motor Inn, the rent was higher and it still only had one bed, which she insisted the demigod sleep in.

Taking the phone with her, she poked her head in the aforementioned room only to find that Kestrel was curled up underneath the bed, her feet twitching like a dog having a dream. Shaking her head, the brunette padded past the room and into the tiny kitchenette where the sliding balcony door was. Once outside, she took a deep breath and picked up a pack of cigarettes on the low glass table near the door, shaking them slightly to see if anything was in there. Satisfied with the gentle thumps inside, she took one out, lit it and dialed a number on her phone, leaning against the balcony railing as she exhaled a cloud of tobacco.

"Hello?" a serious voice on the other end answered.

"Hey Angel. Did I wake you?"

"Faith. Hi. No, you didn't. I just got in actually. Is something wrong? Is Buffy okay?"

Faith chuckled a little bit. "Yeah, she's fine." She filled him in on the details of the situation since the last time she'd seen him. "So we're supposed to go check out what the hell this Bilal place is and I figured since you stuck me here, you can go ask Lorne or something because I want to help, but you know me and research."

"Okay, I'll see what I can do. How are you doing though?"

Faith resisted the urge to snort. "Peachy. Just like old times."

"You remember what I told you, about not giving up on redemption?"

"Yeah, yeah, I remember. I get why you're so broody now."

"I'm not broody, I'm pensive." He protested, but Faith could hear the smile in his voice.

"Whatever helps you through the day, Soul Boy. I'll catch you later then?"

"Yeah. I need a couple hours sleep, but I'll see what I can find when I get up."

"Thanks, Angel."

They said their goodbyes and she hung up the phone, surprised to find Kestrel standing on the other side of the glass door, one hand pressed against the pane. Once she knew she had been spotted, the white-haired girl opened the door and stepped onto the porch.

"Couldn't sleep?" The Slayer asked, wondering if she should recommend the girl sleep on top of the bed.

"I only close my eyes until they open again." Kestrel said, standing on her tiptoes and leaning over the railing. "It's early, isn't it?"

Faith shrugged. "Or late, depending on if you're just getting up or just going to bed. We're going to meet up with everyone in a few hours. Do you want something to eat?"

"I want to mash up Rabbit and make him eat his own insides."

"Can't help you there, but I can't say I don't know the feeling." The brunette assumed that this 'rabbit' was a person and she reminded herself to stay on the girl's good side. "Let's get you something to eat and you can figure that out later, okay?"

"Alright little black hawk." She pushed herself away from the balcony and skipped inside.

Faith shook her head. "Do you always name people after animals?"

"People are animals, the worst kind."

"Can't argue with that."

Anya frowned deeply as she followed Kestrel around the store. The silver-eyed girl was walking on her hands, her legs flailing about and getting dangerously close to some of the merchandise. She didn't know why _she_ had to be the one to watch her while everyone sans Faith did research. Didn't they know that she had more important things to do than to chase around a crazy demigod all day? Like opening the store and counting money? At least when Buffy got there, she could probably shirk the duties off onto Dawn. The younger Summers always complained that she didn't get to do enough babysitting. As if on cue, the sisters entered the store, Dawn waving brightly.

"Good!" the blonde demon clapped, rushing over to Dawn. She pointed at Kestrel. "See her?"

"Yeah, so?" Dawn replied hesitantly.

"It's your turn to be a productive member of the group and entertain your new best friend."

"Seriously?" The brunette shot back, raising an eyebrow. She looked over at her sister pleadingly; there was no way that would be allowed.

"You always said you wanted to do more babysitting." Buffy said, shrugging.

"My thoughts exactly!" Anya said excitedly. "Run along now! Make sure she doesn't break anything!"

Dawn harrumphed and made her way towards the back of the shop where Kestrel was skipping from side to side. The vengeance demon nodded happily and went over to the counter to count the money. Buffy made her way into the store and waved at the table where Xander, Tara and Willow sat, the two former engrossed in books and the latter typing away at her computer. They greeted her as she made her way to the door in the back, which led to the training room.

She could tell Faith was in there already because of the muffled grunting and thumping noises so she steeled her nerves and went in, leaving the door open behind her. Faith was in front of a practice dummy, letting off a flurry of punches at its face and torso. She stopped when Buffy was fully into the room and stretched her arms behind her head, grabbing at her elbows.

"Yo, B." The younger Slayer greeted, going towards a water bottle lying on the floor.

"Hey." She returned noncommittally, dropping her gym bag and leaning over to start stretching.

"I, uh, talked to Angel this morning."

"Yeah?" Buffy's interest was piqued.

"Yeah, he's gonna help try and figure out this Bilal place. I figured since neither of us are the research types, the brains over at the Fang Gang could help out."

"That was…a good idea." The blonde said, sounding as if she wasn't quite sure that she said it.

"That was about four hours ago, so he should be calling in the next few hours with anything."

"Great. We done talking now?"

Faith shrugged. "Well fuck you too Miss Summers." She muttered under her breath.

"I heard that."

"Oh well, I ain't apologizin', Princess."

"So much for the new you, huh?" Buffy asked sarcastically.

The brunette balled her hands into fists. "That was low, B. You got something to say for real, come out and say it."

The older Slayer stepped up to Faith and studied her for a minute. She looked pissed off. Her face had begun to turn red and she was breathing harder, her muscles tensing. Buffy didn't know why she goaded her so much; there was just something about making Faith angry that delighted her. She wanted to see how far she could push her.

"Yeah, I _do_ have something to say." The blonde started, her voice instigative on purpose. "When are you going to cut the bullshit?"

"What?" the question caught her off guard.

"You heard me. What's your plan this time, _F_?" She took a step closer and Faith took a step backwards. "You got in good with Angel and now what? You're here to make things all better so you can screw us over again? What are you planning?"

Faith took a step forward. "Nothing you arrogant bitch. I'm telling the truth."

"For once."

"Fuck you!" Faith shouted swinging a fist at the smaller Slayer, which was blocked.

Buffy's senses kicked into overdrive and a shiver of triumph came over her. She delivered a side kick which landed on its mark on the middle of the brunette's torso.

Faith huffed out the air that was knocked out of her and bent over, letting the momentum of her stumble sneak in a sweeping leg kick which knocked the blonde on her back. The older Slayer sprang up, recovering quickly and having her roundhouse kick blocked. The more blows they traded, the more intense their concentration became.

Buffy spun around to avoid a punch to the stomach and caught the younger Slayer's wrist, turning it backwards and receiving a backwards kick to the chin for her troubles. They carried on this way for nearly an hour, both of them blocking out everything else but each other. Finally, the blonde launched herself at her opponent, knocking them both to the ground, Buffy pinning Faith's shoulders to the blue mat beneath her. Sweating and breathing heavily, the older Slayer allowed a satisfied grin to spread across her face, turning it into a laugh when the brunette scowled.

"Okay, you win, B." Faith mumbled, though she was beginning to smile herself.

The blonde pushed herself away from Faith and offered her a hand up, which she took. "Sorry about what I said earlier." She said, abruptly, shocking the taller Slayer.

"Huh?"

"Sorry." Buffy repeated more loudly. "That was out of line…Tara told me she's seen your aura and you really are getting better, I shouldn't have egged you on."

Faith smiled uncomfortably and rubbed at her shoulder where she had been kicked a few minutes before. "Um…thanks, B." she was confused as to what brought this new development along, but remembering about her dream with Not Buffy, she tried her best not to question it.

Buffy was about to say something else when Faith's cell phone jangled from the corner, causing her to jog over to pick it up.

"Hey Wes, what's up? Uh-huh…you did?...there is?...it is?...oh, okay that's great…okay, later… That was Wesley." She added needlessly.

"What's up?"

"Apparently the Fang Gang came through. They found a book on Bilal, but it's in Latin so Wes already took the liberty of scanning it and sending it to Willow. He said he should have the last pages done in a few minutes."

"Good, now maybe we can figure this out." Buffy shifted her position to a fighting stance and put her fists up. "Wanna kill some time?"


End file.
